


An Emerald for an Eye

by TeaThings



Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Amora is my fav and we are here to do her justice, Amora needs a hug, F/M, Frigga our queen and saviour, I did try, Karnilla is poc, amora and Loki sigh they are too good for MCU, hopefully this appeals to someone, thor is goofy but not stupid trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 70,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26885119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaThings/pseuds/TeaThings
Summary: Karnilla's bony hand reached out to clasp around her own smaller one, her thumb gently stroking as if to soothe her. Long dark tresses falling down her back were wound together by miniature braids weaved in and out of the hair, and the braids at the front of her face curtained her pointed, unreadable face."What is your name, smár norse?""Amora."
Relationships: Amora & Loki (Marvel), Amora/Loki (Marvel), Amora/Thor (Marvel), Frigga | Freyja/Odin (Marvel), Loki/Sigyn, Loki/Sigyn (Marvel)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	An Emerald for an Eye

_Some of us are so lonely, that we befriend the worst version of ourselves._

* * *

Goddesses are what the mortal world know as superior. Not all goddesses are born superior. Some are made, grown and challenged. Some are told they are not the goddess material the gods intended, that they got lost along the way, wavering between good and bad and finding little correlation between the two.

Karnilla's bony hand reached out to clasp around her own smaller one, her thumb gently stroking as if to soothe her. Long dark tresses falling down her back were wound together by miniature braids weaved in and out of the hair, and the braids at the front of her face curtained her pointed, unreadable face.

"What is your name, _smár norse?_ "

" _Amora._ "

* * *

Karnilla was truly impressive, Amora had never witnessed such a daunting yet enchanting woman. Amora floated between rooms in the chambers Karnilla introduced her to, they were situated quite close to her own, explaining that she - and now Amora - must live on palace grounds. Supposing being the Allfather's enchantress had some strict rulings, Karnilla advised she either remain in her quarters or the place she hadn't yet visited, the tutelage area. Knowing she was brought to the palace, to Karnilla's home, to study under her was both a luxury in terms of relocation and training, but it also allowed her to finally reinvent herself into the person she truly believed herself to be.

A long-fingered hand landed on her shoulder, jolting her from her thoughts "I will collect you before we sit with the King and his family, _smár norse_."

It would be understandable if she felt somewhat deprived about her lack of a functional upbringing. Although, she didn't acknowledge that fact she didn't feel deplorable about her lack of mother. Most children would yearn for a mother. Sometimes she surpassed her guilt by pretending to feel sorry for herself, especially around the other girls in the orphanage who would cry themselves to sleep, completely lost and hopeless without their loving parents.

* * *

Amora had ventured out confidently to tour the palace grounds. She wandered the gardens and the outskirts before setting her eyes on a beautiful spot near the fountains. A pavilion coated in vines and bright plants stood alone and empty. Amora found this to be a perfect and quiet place to read, or draw attention to herself.

The pavilion was always a quiet spot, considerably far away from intrusive sounds and the only background noise chirping birds or the breeze blowing the plants in one direction. It was, by far, his favourite reading spot. Reading in his quarters or library always made him susceptible to being found, usually by Thor requiring his assistance in form of a sparring partner that he could actually beat, or his mother checking up on him because she never truly knew what was going on inside his head. He wasn't like Thor, readable as a book. Every emotion painted on his face understood by every native of all the Nine Realms.

There were books piled so high that they equalled the height of surrounding plants, vines criss-crossing in the cut-out of the fence with large blooming flowers protruding from them.  
Every page flicked made him all the more intrigued. There was an open book on her lap that was brought up to her chest, two pale feet poking out under her skirt. Another book hid her features, a golden halo of hair visible floating down her back as she pressed against one of the columns. It looked like a picturesque scene someone would physically inhibit themselves in to appear a certain way - was that it? _Was she trying to prove something?_ The pile of books at her feet an effect to the overall act?

As quick as a flash, she jerked the book down from her face ever so slightly to reveal two glimmering eyes, an iridescent blue so striking that the heart in Loki's chest began pounding.

"Can I help you?" She spoke after a few beats, eyes wandering and observing him as he awkwardly stood in the entrance of the pavilion.

_Ancient Spells and Castings Vl. XI_

He believed his insides were screaming at him to say something, reply, don't be a fool. He recognised the book as soon as he focused his eyes on the cover instead of her own, noticing delicate fingers with painted black tips gripping the spine.

If someone wanted to reveal a lifelong vendetta against him in the very moment, and put him out of his misery in the least painful way - he would probably thank them. Although, nothing could be more painful than the ongoing silence between the two as both parties sized the other up, in case the stranger in the pavilion happened to be somewhat of a native intruder.

"There you are,"

He wasn't sure how his mouth remembered to speak, and then he realised he wasn't the one talking. An exasperated sigh passed his ears as a taller figure rushed past him, almost knocking his thoughts out of him.  
He couldn't see past Karnilla's figure once she reached what she had been looking for, he now cursed inside for his view was constricted by the wide dark cloak she wore, as if deliberately hiding the mysterious girl.

"You've met my new apprentice then," Karnilla didn't ask, she just assumed they had shared some form of communication. If continuous and possibly intrusive staring could be taken the same way a back-and-forth coherent conversation; then yes, they'd met.

The apprentice stepped into her shoes and heaved every book she had decorated around her into her arms. She was smaller than both Karnilla and Loki, yet she refused to allow her size to be a disadvantage as she followed Karnilla, throwing a look at him that he couldn't describe, he could only feel his insides melt.

Karnilla was somewhat lightly berating her. Something about being punctual and focusing on what she'd been tasked to do, _not sitting in an orangery after relocating half of Asgard's distinguished library!_ She made a face behind Karnilla's back towards Loki. Eyes flashing briefly at him, as if they collected secrets and were taunting him with unknowable knowledge. If only his brain could reconnect to his body so that he could possibly make his own mockery of Karnilla as another unworded reply. He didn't though, and the two left.

* * *

Frigga was waiting outside the hall, a sweeping blue gown trailing behind her, decorating the already patterned golden floor. She began walking towards Thor and Loki before they reached her.

"You both look lovely," she said as her eyes lingered on Thor's sparring boots for just too long.  
Thor gave his mother a puzzled look - they usually ate together, if his father wasn't due in court or had a meeting. Frigga only intervened if other family members were attending, or someone from the council joined although they were only there to hurry Odin so they could get back to work.

"We are dining with Karnilla tonight." She told them as they walked into the hall. Loki watched Thor breathe a sigh of relief, Karnilla was important but they didn't have to make a formal effort - so Thor's boots would be unnoticed.

"She's introducing her new apprentice." She turned and looked at them both before she let them pass to sit "Make her feel comfortable, it will be daunting to be seated with both your father and Karnilla."

Thor threw his mother a look as if she was a friend, and not his mother.

" _Her?_ " He asked.

In the time Thor and Loki had known Karnilla - she had been a consistent part of their lives since they were young children - she had only taught three boys the art of sorcery.

"Yes," Frigga raised her brows at him "she is not specific about sex, only talent."

She then turned and went to greet her husband who was seated at the long dining table. Thor dramatically scrunched his face in disgust as he whispered to Loki "I wish she didn't say sex."

"That’s very mature of you." He replied with a snarky tone after rolling his eyes. While he was the younger brother, he gained much more maturity in the years where Thor lost his, especially around his family. He was the golden, childish child.

"She's our mother, it's just _weird_ \- "

The opening of the doors alerted the four of them that Karnilla arrived, with her new apprentice in tow.

Frigga gave one last look towards her sons, reminding them of the ' _be nice, make her feel welcome_ ' statement that she usually threw in when giving them one of her how-to-treat-lady speeches. Thor confidently nodded as he stood to pull a chair back for Karnilla, and Loki for the young sorceress.

Her hair was pulled back, with two strands shaping her unreadable face. As she glided just behind Karnilla, her golden hair swished behind her matching the pace of her emerald skirts and a pursed grin laid bare on her face. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since interrupting her reading in the pavilion, he hoped it didn’t show on his face. He needn’t need to be anymore transparent than he currently was.

"This is Amora," Karnilla introduced her fresh apprentice, who didn't appear at all intimidated to be dining with Asgard's Royal family on her first evening there "she is of Nornheim, and well-versed in secondary spell-crafting."

She was mostly speaking to Odin, as if she was convincing him. Amora didn't think anything of it, she was focused on the two sons across the table from her. She listened as Thor boasted about achievements, battle and victories - she even let him slip a flirtatious comment in-between, quite risky since his mother was present. She sipped quietly on her drink as she politely answered closed questions from Frigga, who seemed to have less information than Odin given that her questioning on Amora's parentage seemed to suffocate the previous warm energy in the room. Karnilla and Odin stiffened immediately, with the latter looking at his wife as if he was sending information directly to her brain. Thor and Loki shared a look as if to say, what the hel is going on?

Finally, someone spoke, "I adopted Amora." Karnilla said, rather plainly, announcing a new addition to her one-person family "When her training is over, she will still belong to me."

It was understood that this intended to sound endearing, in a way that Amora would be different from the rest - Karnilla was legally her family, and they would continue that. However, it sounded as if she bought Amora like a broach at a stall, and would hang on to it until she found a prettier, new broach. Amora, herself, didn't appear genuinely delighted nor irritated, she just mellowed into the awkwardness.

"I believe you'll have a joyous time here," Frigga was doing her best to dilute the tension "there are lovely maidens here for you to befriend - Sif, who is a good friend to my son Thor," Thor all but choked at his mother's comment "she's always in the training grounds, perfecting her skill. I'm sure she would be delighted to have a girl around."

Before Amora had the chance to form a polite reply, Thor swallowed a gulp of mead and spoke to her as if they were lifelong friends “Yes, Sif is skilled at her craft. As am I,” he slapped a hand on the table “I will be the fiercest warrior of Asgard, of all time, soon. The training here is of fine - “

“You’re not selling Asgard to her, she already lives here.” Loki whispered to him, a grin etched on his features as he chuckled at his own remark. Unbeknownst to him, young Amora had heard him and laughed.

The laugh sliced the atmosphere, it was delicate and light and seemingly pulled everyone in, except Karnilla who mumbled something inaudible to Amora who suddenly zipped her lips. She was intriguing as an ancient book hidden in the back of the library, Loki thought. He noticed her nails lacked the black paint, probably forced by Karnilla to scrub it off, the rims of fingers were red raw. She is beautiful and divine like no other maiden, Thor mused. He clocked her deliberate smile and returned his own.

Amora pursed her lips after being quietly hissed at by Karnilla, she studied the two of the brothers. There was something inside of her, close to her heart, something ricocheting off the bones in her body, the vibrations becoming louder as she finished her drink, hoping they would drown whatever was constricting in her chest. She decided to call it nerves as she refilled her glass with a touch to it’s rim. Maybe it was showing off, maybe she was simply introducing herself.

* * *

Amora wasn’t a simpering maiden. She had been Karnilla’s apprentice for almost a week, and spent little to no time outside her chambers, which were adjoined to her classroom. It was a beautiful divided cell, and even though she wasn’t forced to stay there, Karnilla had been apprehensive about her loaning from the library again.

The dreams she dreamt as a child were filled with visions of sorcery and power; being an impressive, almighty Enchantress. She knew others dreamt of love and care, partnership - the ideals that didn’t interest her. Although, she came to realise why some maidens did simper after the Princes. Especially the beautiful, golden one. Thor. He seemed a little absent-minded, from the little perspective Amora had, but quite bubbly and upbeat. The other one, well, she had seen more of him than Thor. Just from the time he interrupted her in the gardens, he was a polarising, colourless opposite to his brother. All dark and all shadows.

“I can show you how to do that,” Amora said in a low whisper “ _properly._ ”

She had followed the shadowy Prince who invaded her quiet reading space, and who sat opposite from her at dinner. Waiting discreetly behind a pillar, watching him stalk in haste towards the library. She wasn’t overly familiar with the palace, it was immense in size and there just seemed to be rooms after rooms, without even a map for help. The library had called to her the first moment Karnilla brought her to the grounds, it had scents of cedarwood and dim lights, it was cosy and warm compared to the brassy, hot atmosphere of the palace. The entire juxtaposition initially baffled her, the library was all woods, candles and dark colours - it failed in comparison to the gleaming, glittering and golden architecture of the royal vincity of Asgard.

He had spun on his heels as she spoke, catching her brief grin. Flustered, after failing at the spell she watched him continuously attempt. His cheeks pinked as she leaned against the doorframe, after sauntering in and dulling down the voice in his head, complete silence as her presence soaked up all coherent thoughts running in his brain.

“It’s quite alright - “ he started, but even without her words her simple touch halted his speech. Her hand grasped the back of his, affixing his gesture so the spell would work. Noting his voice was both delicate and sharp, and his body jumpy at her initial, first touch, she came to the quick conclusion that he possibly didn’t want her enveloping his personal space. Still, she didn’t stop to ask.

“Your hands must be correct,” she released her grip “that’s where the magic begins. Now, do it again.”

The look he gave her should’ve startled her. He seemed close to bursting into some condescending speech about how he was a Prince and she did not have the place to deliver orders. Then, with his shoulders gently descending and face firming, he uttered the words for the spell he previously fumbled. Amora’s grin grew as emerald sparks emerged from his hand, shooting into the bookcase sending a couple novels flying. She moved in front of him, watching his face change from that forced scorned look to pride.

“What was your name, again?” He asked, lying through his teeth for he remembered her name from the moment he heard it. Possibly even before.

This was only a brief moment, mere minutes as Amora corrected his technique. Although, there was some kind of united air, as if they’d silently made some companionship deal. Fate or fatal, they continued to study the other.

“Amora, my Prince.” she let her eyes wander over his face “My name is Amora.”

* * *

Thor was beautiful. He was simply extraordinary and if told, Amora would’ve believed he was the muse of all artists ever. He was the most interesting painting Amora ever laid eyes on.  
As the older brother, he should’ve worn more maturity but he was fun, vivacious and always had everyone’s attention. She’d spotted him before he her, but she concentrated on the scrolls in her arms as if to dissuade their interaction. She heard his gentle hum as he discarded the three men he’d been walking with, gliding in the direction towards her.

With her back already turned, she practiced expressions to wear once she met him but his abrupt presence surprised her and sent the scrolls cascading out of her arms.

“My lady, my apologies!”

Although it seemed his intention was to baffle Amora, his eyes darted to the papers hitting the floor. They’d both reached down for what them, it looked like Thor had rehearsed the move before. Fixating her eyes on him was not intentional, he was pulling her in ever so gracefully and she allowed herself to absorb his golden presence.

“Thank you, my Prince.” She smiled as she continued analysing every feature as he unravelled one of the scrolls he’d collected. His eyes were the colours of the ocean, his hair was a brighter gold than hers, he should’ve had a statue erected to not glorify himself, but to show all of Asgard his handsomeness.

“No need for formalities, we are practically family!” He quickly smiled but then some kind of disgust washed over his face as whatever he meant when referring to her as ‘family’ misfired “ - well, family but not exactly - “ and then his voice lowered “ - _uninclined_ to other benefits - “ then he glanced to the scrolls and then back to her face “outwith family, you know?”

Amora did not know. She had a feeling (a deep gut feeling) that he was possibly coming onto her. Yet it seemed he didn’t exactly understand what he was saying either. Still, she pressed her scrolls towards her chest after retrieving them from him, dramatically gazed up at him and said “Maybe your words would have more hope loosened with a drink.”

The face he made was utter hilarity. She could actually see the thoughts penetrating his skull, it seemed his recycled line had worn and the one he expected from Amora was not the one he received, to any degree. The corners of his mouth upturned when he realised she’d suggested in code they’d share a drink, or two, or enough to loosen up.

“Well, my Lady, we shall hope.”

So much for not using formalities, she thought as she glided away from him.

* * *

“You should read this,”

Amora was sitting in the orangery, surrounded by blooming flowers and contrasting plants that made it look as if she was a muse for a painting. Her head upturned when she heard Loki’s voice and he appeared from behind her, gesturing a book towards her.

“What makes you think I haven’t already?” She chirped as she glanced at the cover.

_Ancient Spells and Castings Vl. XIII._

“Well,” he sat down next to her “the content was considered too dark and maniacal that copies had to be destroyed, people were attempting what is believed to be dangerous magic and suffering unfortunate fates” he tapped the book “this one survived - “ he turned to face her “only because I’d hidden it under a tile on the West balcony.”

“That’s a great length to go to to hang onto a book full of mad spells.” She slipped the book from his hand and pulled her knees up to use as a bookstand.

“Some things are,” he watched her as she skimmed through the book, as if she was hurriedly trying to pick a demented cast to practice “worth hanging onto, I suppose.”

* * *

Amora liked Loki. They had spent more than enough time together since she arrived; practicing sorcery, sharing spellbooks (ones he’d been given by his mother and ones she’d been told not under any circumstances to take out of Karnilla’s room) and genuinely bonding. Still, their time speaking to each other had been brief. She believed she’d spoken more enchantments aloud in front of him than anything about herself.

Still, their shared love of tricks and teasing was never not fun. Not that either of them were heinously immoral, but they simply hadn’t decided a line where something was considered too far. Supposedly murdering someone or something like that. Amora would saunter through the palace when Karnilla didn’t require her presence (which was becoming more often as of late, Karnilla had suddenly favoured Amora a lot more when she realised Loki was favouring her). She would travel through, throwing daring spells at people that would yelp upon finding a slug in their blouse or their feet frozen into the ground. It was rather entertaining.

Loki had enjoyed her tricks, and took it upon himself to outdo her. Usually she didn’t like the competition - she’d bettered every sorcerer she knew (yes, except Karnilla) but he wasn’t competing with her for a title, or acknowledgement. He wanted her to think he was just as mischievous, just as cunning - that he was go just that bit further, freezing not just the feet, the legs too. Thor berated him for it, if he caught him - or if he ended up being the unlucky victim. Loki had transformed Thor’s riding boots into snakes in front of Amora, resulting in her fiery laughter that was worth the hapless embarrassment of any fool. In some strange - and yet totally obvious - way, both Princes had become infatuated with her. Well, it sounded better in her head than it did in the plain day of life. Thor was genuinely interested in her appearance.

“I’m going to be late for my lesson.”

Loki’s head turned a little too quickly as she spoke. It wasn’t true, she had arranged to meet Thor, committing to her mention of drinks the last time they spoke. Although, she’d gotten side-tracked with Loki and realised that she might actually be late. Saying her goodbyes and collecting her books, she skirted off to her room to beautify herself, and tried aimlessly not to be too joyous regarding the whole affair.

“Where are you going?”

Karnilla. She always managed to sweep unobserved into a room, becoming her surroundings as she hid in the shadows until a good enough reason laid out for her dramatic appearance.

The powder brush dropped back into the pot as Karnilla invaded her personal space, quickly hovering towards Amora. Amora met her eyes in the mirror on the vanity, continuing to prod and pamper her face as she did.

“Nowhere.” She lied.

“What is all this?” Karnilla, as obtusely as one could, fingered the cosmetics on the dresser, landing daggers on Amora through the mirror.

“I _think_ \- “ Amora started “ - and I could be wrong - “ she lifted a brush with specks of glitter on it “ - it’s make-up.” with her other hand pinging the fluff of the brush, the glitter bounced onto Karnilla’s side.

“Behave, _smár norse_.” Her fingers landed on Amora’s shoulder “are you going to the gathering?”

She nodded before she digested what Karnilla said. She was somewhat insulted she hadn’t heard about the gathering, or been invited, but that wasn’t for Karnilla to know, it was simply something for Amora to use to her advantage. Plus, Karnilla wasn’t exactly the motherly material she would sit and talk to boys about.

“Yes.”

“You aren’t to arrive here late, your tutoring is early tomorrow as I’m due in Nornheim come afternoon.”

Amora’s fingers clenched the miniature mirror she’d picked up “Why ever must you go there?”

“It is not for you to fret about, keep your worries on your lessons and timekeeping.” Karnilla replied in the lamest tone, she could announce her marriage or pregnancy and she would still sport that same lacklustre tone.

Karnilla’s hand came to briefly rest in Amora’s hair, she ran her fingers through the golden, styled locks. Unlike her normal wear of braids and ties, she kept her hair long to meet Thor - even though the Asgardian maidens wore their braids like dresses, never without.

“You look pretty.” Karnilla smiled at Amora’s reflection.

Thor had made the same comment when he met Amora. She made sure she was obviously late, to keep things interesting, but not too late, to keep him keen. His shadow was almost as interesting as his form, sporting fullness, glory even, and if it mustn't be dark it should be gold.

“Thank you, my Prince.” She said, too delicate for her own liking. She was far from his superior, but she wanted to remain equals - as if they were two of a better kind and she was not just a simpering maiden.

“You don’t have to address me, my lady.” He’d said as he took her arm, leading her to a candle-lit room (not for romantic reasons, there was just an awful lot of candles) with a balcony that gazed over Asgard. It was definitely not his room, more of a social area without any current socialising.

“Then why must you feel the need to address me, Thor?” She asked as he poured her a red drink. Using his name towards him felt like the ultimate power move, surely he allowed all maidens to call him by his own name, but it sounded different rolling off of her tongue.

“Just,” he paused to look at her “simple niceties, Amora.”

If she felt something saying his name, she felt far more when he returned the favour.

* * *

The red mark across Thor’s face was ugly. It wasn’t violently bad or altering to his features, it was just a deep red committed by her own hand.

“Amora.”

Amora’s mind was reeling. A moment before he pressed his mouth to hers, placing a hand on her neck as if to stop escape. With both sets of eyes closed, they worked out where to land hands and when to lean in further. Amora stifled her breath as he parted his lips against hers, struggling to work out when to actually breathe.

With an immense grip creeping up her thigh, and a strong hold on her neck, Thor developed the way in which his head moved which allowed Amora to copy.

“How about we - “

She cringed as he pulled on her lip and suggested they venture somewhere a little more secluded. Thor was bold, confident and just a little cocky. While confusion encircled her brain as she could not understand what could be more secluded than an empty common room, the realisation came quickly when she comprehended what he meant.  
Horrified, possibly. Even more horrified when his hands wandered further and the kiss he received from her was believable consent, she panicked. Thor was not a danger to her, not in his largeness and heaviness. She had long since mastered setting fingers alight, and had easily thrown men off her skirt before. Thor’s behaviour wasn’t predatory, it was hormonal.

Amora’s hand only connected with his face when he crept into the back of her blouse, tugging strings of the corset, and she obviously became startled. He’d been so shocked he’d fallen off the seat, her own force didn’t cause it but his own bewilderment blew him away.

“ _Amora._ ”

Their eyes met after she pulled hers away from the handprint on his cheek.

“Thor - my Prince, you have my apologies - “  
His hand swept into the air and hovered around for more time than necessary before landing on the edge of her knee, he triple-checked with her that that was acceptable and then spoke softly.

“My Lady, there is no need for apologies. You are just little, and I am just - “ he wondered about the word choice for himself rather too casually “confident.”

The condescending word he used for her and the complementary one he used for himself were such a strong contrast that Amora questioned whether he knew what either meant.

“I didn’t intend to,” She paused and grimaced “physically apprehend you.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have believed I would’ve physically entertained you, you have more than my apologies.” He genuinely appeared sympathetic and his face matched his emotion.

There was an unsettling feeling inside Amora at the admittance he believed he would’ve bedded her tonight. If she didn’t just slap him. The feeling didn’t leave her in her sleep when she nestled into her own bed. Her body rejected him, not her mind. She would continue her interest in Thor, after all he was fairly charming about it and appreciated her suggestion of a do-over. Playing hard-to-get was far more fun anyway.

* * *

The courtyard was always busy. It sectioned off to different areas; a training yard, a common room (the very one where she slapped Thor), changing rooms… So the crowds that hovered in the sun-soaked yard were always humorous; some would be wearing full armour, some donned in their finery, some half-dressed and the remainder were the help skirting through in dismal wear. Amora sat perched on a ledge, where she’d sat a few times before, as it was one of the only places in the palace where she could monologue funny commentary to herself about all the silly bypassers.

Thor was making unusual gestures to his pals, gathered around him in fits of laughter and jests. With each banter, the group grew louder, especially a shorter fellow that mirrored Thor’s goldeness, handsomeness and well, cockiness.

“Thor, you truly make me weep!” he said as he slapped Thor on the back “this is quite exciting, isn’t it?”

He turned to look at another man, youngish but older in the face who simply nodded “Thor’s adventures are never short of entertaining.”  
Amora cringed. The men were just massaging Thor’s already huge ego.

“And then she - I have said too much,” Thor dramatically cast his hands away as if to shield himself from the goading crowd, who in return, pestered him to continue.

From where Amora was sitting, she was hidden from the congregation of testosterone, flipping through pages of a book she’d read from cover-to-cover twice. A girl swept past her, a dark braid swinging behind her as she made concentrated, stauncy steps towards Thor and his gang.

Amora hadn’t seen her before, it was unusual for just one maiden to be surrounded amongst unruly men - exceptions for a feast, of course. She returned to her book, not paying interest to the growing crowd.

Another eruption of laughter echoed past Amora, her head automatically turned to gauge where the noise came from and obviously it was Thor’s posse. Except now when she looked, some members of the group looked back, some were actually staring at her. It seemed they were jesting, the blonde one that had been Thor’s frontman, poked the man to his left in the side and she would deny the fact they pointed at her.

The young maiden amongst the group was the only one not laughing, instead it appeared she was shouting at Thor. Her small shoulders raised as she sized up Thor. Amora was too focused on the drama unfolding, that her book swept down her skirt and landed with a thump on the floor. The girl now had crossed her arms, pouting as she listened to Thor, who was using a lot of fickle and light gestures to ‘redeem’ himself to her.

“Lady Amora, isn’t it?”

Her book landed back into her lap, a soft voice pulling her from her mediated thoughts. The man had soft, kind eyes that matched his voice. He was rather large, possibly leaner than Thor (if anyone could be) and she had been ultimately taken by surprise, in the nicest way.

“Yes, it is,” she replied “and you are?”

“You can call me Skurge.”

“ _Skurge?_ ” She repeated incredulously, as if he lied to her. He only nodded in return, and she didn’t initially place him as one of Thor’s simpering goons, until he revealed all he knew Thor had spoken so boastfully about.

“What do you mean, he’s speaking of me?” Amora eyes hardened on him as Skurge asked if she was the girl being discussed by Thor. While she had an already lacking understanding, there was an inkling inside of her deciding that this couldn’t be all airs and graces.

“He seems to be speaking about you, if anything.” Skurge replied tamely, in the most boyish way possible. As if going up to a stranger and alerting them that they were being spoken about wasn’t a huge, nerve-wracking deal.

Amora wanted to press further, she wanted to know the extent of the conversation but she was teaching herself to remain gracefully nonchalant and unbothered. She didn’t know Skurge and didn’t plan on entertaining him, while her eyes wandered over him her heart lay a couple metres to the left.

“I have to go,” her head flicked towards Thor, there were more men surrounding him and their roars grew. Without another look at Skurge, she collectively strolled towards the group, noticing the dark-haired girl still appeared pissed with crossed arms.

“Thor,” Amora all but purred, stopping a few yards from him. The sudden feeling of all eyes on her made her uneasy, she was used to the attention but these eyes were not affectionate or flattering.  
Thor genuinely was surprised at her appearance, as if he hadn’t been speaking of her - even though she’d just met Skurge she didn’t believe him to be a liar.

“Amora!” The way he said her name was different to the previous night, his shoulders dropped and he swayed towards her, much to the annoyance of the dark-haired girl.

Thor was approaching her, though her eyes remained studying the girl who looked as if she was about to reach forward and grab Thor by his golden locks. Amora’s hand scrunched into her dress as Thor beamed at her, a smile drawing as he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. That action alone was preconceived, he was alert now, almost wary of her.

“Clearly someone wants _more!_ ”

Thor and Amora mirrored each other’s O-shaped mouths. They somehow both seemed equally shocked at one of the comments flying from the group, others followed. Her bottom lip dropped and wobbled as the other comments flooded to her, racing in her mind. _Suppose she wants more from Thor._ They usually do, don’t they? _You can’t call a teenager a whore._ Shouldn’t they just keep their legs closed then? The girl behind Thor did actually reach out but grabbed his arm, not his hair, and pulled him back.

Thor didn’t look at her. His whole body seemed to tighten as he faced the girl, the men continued to jest. Amora stood alone in the now suddenly empty courtyard, there were people in front of her, behind her, but there was no one next to her. Her face concentrated on the back of Thor’s head and then she reeled back, worried she would be pinned with the hopeless romantic complex.

Thor may have been the first man she’d kissed and not bedded, but her heart rapidly began beating as she walked away. He had been good to her.

The chattering died as she left, and her heart fluttered gently back to a normal pace. She’d been called many names growing up surrounded by other girls, mainly a bitch. She always thought ‘ _whore_ ’ would be used far later on in her life.  
She decided to find a new spot to read.

* * *

The books crashed to the ground. Amora smiled to herself as she pulled her cloak further round her shoulders. Karnilla had just left after wrapping up one of their lessons early, and seemed to have sucked all the warmth out of the room with her.

Amora sat in front of the cauldron and pots they used for certain remedies and casts, and continually zapped the shelves until the books rocketed off. Karnilla didn’t like the thought of Amora alone in the tutelage area which was decorated with books, tools and magical scrolls - enough to keep Amora occupied for weeks. Karnilla didn’t want Amora practicing on her own, learning without her input or teaching herself. She said guidance was the most important tool in sorcery training, that many sorcerers lost their way due to mishandled practice.

Still, Amora always paved a silly false truth about wanting to finish a certain chapter in a certain book. She was not hiding, she told herself unprovoked. It had been a day since the fiasco in the courtyard, one that Amora frequently revisited in her mind. Knowing other men had discussed her wasn’t something she wasn’t used to, some men weren’t the most tasteful or refined. There were no limitations. Yet, her new venture as Karnilla’s apprentice introduced her to a new, secondary upbringing. One she wasn’t ready to either give up or inject with poison, and Thor had done that. He poisoned it all with his words. Also, she couldn’t shake the thought of the man who approached her in the courtyard either. _Skurge_.

Obviously, there was no revelation of this to Karnilla or anyone. She hadn’t any proper friends, and the one she trusted - _Thor_ \- has been the reason she felt this way. Even though they built little foundations through meaningless flirting, he still hurt her. He poisoned her, yet her heart still remained on him so. And she wasn’t sure why. Although, when she originally recited it to herself she put it down to hormones.

When she became bored of throwing paperbacks around the room with her fingertips, Amora decided to hurry through the courtyards (not because she was embarrassed or anything of the undignified sort!) to the gardens. There was no place like the colourful gardens of the palace, they reminded her of Nornheim. The stuffy, built-up parts of Asgard that overwhelmed her were equally balanced with the beautiful yet plain gardens. Everything was on one surface, no towers of gold or overlooking balconies.

The smell of the orangery was coming back to her as she passed through the yard, not as slowly as she would’ve liked. The vines and strange plants were visions in her mind almost made real until something - someone, physically yanked her from her thoughts.

A warmness crept up Amora’s sleeve as she turned to meet whoever had dared touch her.

“Amora, isn’t it?”

If she wasn’t irked at being disrupted from her travels, she would’ve made a light joke to herself to wear a badge with her name, there had been too many people that didn’t know her name and just knew about her.

Amora’s eyes wandered from where a strange hand landed on her arm to the familiar face that was the girl she saw hanging around Thor. She wore the same bland, unreadable expression with her hair in a messy side braid.

“That is my name - do you want something?” Amora jutted, perhaps too rudely in reply to a stranger.

The girl was clearly not as concreted in placing her expressions as Amora was, having dropped her mouth briefly at Amora’s abruptness.

“Well, I’m Sif,” she looked as if she was about to throw her hand towards her but didn’t “I’m friends with Thor.”

“Should that concern me?”

“Um - no, look I just wanted to - “ This Sif must’ve been new to social interaction because she was rather lame at it “see if you’re alright? After yesterday?”

Amora’s face contorted into a series of harsh expressions which could’ve been seen, and felt, by every native of Asgard.

“I don’t require pity, thank you.”

“No, I wasn’t - look, Thor is just the same as other boys, he has a heart of gold yet gloating just gets the better of him.” Sif struggled through her words, eyes fluttering about until they firmly landed on Amora awaiting her reply.

“He wasn’t gloating, he was lying - and I don’t care for your affectionate tendencies, or Thor’s grovelling.”

“Trust me, Thor didn’t send me.” Amora felt this could’ve been said with less sincerity “and it doesn’t matter how you behave with him, you’re still - “

“ - didn’t I just state he wasn’t telling the truth?” Amora growled.

Sif blanked, she didn’t believe her. She continued fidgeting with the dagger on her hip, she clearly thought something of herself.

“You’re struggling to believe me, yet it was you that came to me for what? Soothe your own ego?” Amora spat, she had enough of these golden beings and their enlarged egos, she continued her path to the gardens unbothered.

* * *

“What do you mean, _Enchantress_?” Loki asked, puzzled at the name she explained she’d been given. They’d unconsciously become a duo in terms of practicing sorcery and acting illusions, usually in the quiet corner of the library or in the privacy of their respective rooms.

“That’s what they called me, making it sound like a bad thing.” Amora continued. On her way to his room with a spellbook tucked under her arm, a disapproving maiden had made a catty remark to her sorceress status (it could’ve possibly been related to Thor’s whimsical tales of her, yet she didn’t exactly reveal this to his brother).

“I suppose wicked enchantresses are, like the ones from myths.” Gandering a look at her, he watched her face become serious.

“Wicked or not, they have skills like no other, and can do such things no one else can.” She looked quite proud, as if she’d already let the name sink deep into her skin no matter what way it had been said to her “I think they’re powerful.”

“Well then, Enchantress.” He raised a brow at her as she finished tidying the desk, a smile crawling onto her lips as he said the name like no one had before “show me that spell again?”

She nodded as she gently grasped his wrist and pulled him towards her, so that he could watch the way she cast it and hopefully replicate it. The light touch of her hand excited his heart, she always managed to have this effect on him. He was unsure if she knew that she was causing his chest to constrict with each touch. He hoped she didn’t, and then the pounding faded as she released her grip.

“If I am an Enchantress, you are a Trickster, are you not?” She purred close to his ear, hands orchestrating fluid movements as the golds and greens emerged from her fingertips.

Amora placed her hands over his, like she always did when showing him new spells. Tracing his hands with her own, she spread his fingers in order to form the correct gesture to achieve the cast. The constricting returned to his heart, although for once, it didn’t seem to be about her touch (of course, it added to it) but he felt it as soon as she used that name on him. It was different to the ones that Thor and the Warriors Three used; it wasn’t degrading or humourous. It was as she said, powerful.

It was believed this is where their compelling alliance began.

* * *

The gardens were a stone’s throw away from the palace, yet they seemed otherworldly in not just their beauty, but that they felt like a completely different realm. Amora was lounging on a blanket, her arm resting on a pile of books as she waited for Loki.

Relaxing under the warm sunlight, she took a moment to pity Karnilla who she walked through the gardens with. Karnilla, who was currently spending her morning with the Allfather and select members of the council, allowed Amora to take a day to spend with Loki. Karnilla’s view was ridiculous and boring old men, while Amora got to gaze at the interesting plants and multi-coloured flowers, until her view was obstructed.

“Amora.”

“My Prince.”

Thor made a passive noise as his eyes wandered over Amora. His large body blocked the sunlight, his one shoulder alone could stop the sun from coating Amora with warmth.

“Loki sends his regards.” He said plainly as Amora sat up, brows furrowing.

“Pardon?”

“He’s coming with me to Alfeim for a few days.”  
Thor was less of his usual lively self, and amongst delicate flowers and small plants, he looked indestructible.

“And he couldn’t tell me himself?” She asked, looking up at him, partly annoyed if Loki had blanked her for a reason as little as a trip.

Thor seemed unprepared for the questioning, as if he was just delivering a message “He’s currently with my father, preparing for the trip - “

Amora put her arms over her knees, still not breaking her gaze with his, she tutted “Quite spontaneous, isn’t it, this trip?”

Thor remained silent, but unmoving. He was uncomfortable standing there in front of her, crossing his arms as he tried to word a reply.  
Amora beat him to it “Perhaps I’ll go say goodbye to Loki myself. He can do better than regards.”  
She stretched up and brushed past him, but his grip was quick on her arm, like the flash in her eyes.

“I don’t think you should - “ Thor started, turning to look at her as she shimmied out of his grip, holding her anger.

She snarled “ - this little thing, whatever you’re doing. Does it have anything to do with your reckless gossiping?”

“No,” he stiffened as he lowered his voice “my father deems you a bad influence, and he doesn’t need your poisonous ways infecting Loki.”

“Poisonous?” She repeated “was I so poisonous when you tried to court me?”

“That wasn’t courting, Amora,” he said with thinner lips “we spent one evening together - “

“Yes, spare the story. I know how you relayed it to everyone else.”

While Thor’s previous actions seemed thoughtless and impulsive, the glare he summoned for her was practiced.

“You should not speak to me like that.”

“Why?” She threw her nose in the air, her voice childlike as she awaited an answer.

“I’m the Prince of Asgard.”

“ _One of two._ ”

“Show some respect.”

A handmaiden that seemed to be running an errand, as she was pacing quickly through the garden, stopped abruptly at the sound of Thor’s voice which could’ve halted an army not just a simple maiden.

“Your brother doesn’t mind the way I speak to him.” Amora’s lip curled at the sight of Thor’s frustration, he was leaning over her and hissed at her after the passing maiden continued her walk.

“Know your place, Amora.”

They stared at each other briefly, then Thor breezed past Amora. Even if that direction wasn’t his intended path, there wasn’t an ounce of him ready to turn back and face her.

Every hair on Amora’s skin under her clothes was standing up, her mouth slightly open at their squabble. She stepped ahead to storm in the opposite direction, but she did enjoy having the last word.

“It’s true what they say,” she made sure he heard her “men are truly invalid when rejected, and yes,” she emphasised her wording as she spoke louder “I rejected you. And you’re right, the only reason people speak nicely to you is because of your title, other than that you’re just an ass.”

While her back was to him, she felt every step coming towards her like a final blow to the face. She crossed her arms as she waited for him to grasp her again or scream at her. He did neither.  
“Says the girl with no friends.” Thor spoke in a low tone as Amora slowly faced him, he stood a couple feet from her.

“I have Loki.”

Thor smiled. Amora was enraged.

“Not for long.” He said, then nodded his head in a mock-now and sauntered away.

* * *

There was truly no need for Amora to search the Asgardian’s libraries, Karnilla had a very fine one of her own close to Amora’s chambers. The shelves were full of hundreds of volumes of magic, sorcery and divination instruction books. There were even lighter novels and stories, fables and fairytales long the shelves.

The library was a fine home to Amora when she had little to do, it was a very adequate way to pass the time. Accustomed to finishing her lessons and practices earlier (usually so she could skitter away to find Loki) she had finished early once again and simply lounged amongst the books.

It wasn’t strange to Karnilla that she spent her afternoons and evenings reading by herself, but she knew Amora would rather be skirting the palace, playing tricks and lounging in the palace libraries. She was almost asleep against a pile of cushions when Karnilla walked into the room.

“You have a letter,” Karnilla was so-so, but she managed to sweep all the warmth from any room she entered.

Amora shot up, wondering if her sleepiness was confusing her hearing. Reaching out her hand she took the letter from Karnilla whose grip was tight on it.

“A letter?”

“Hand-delivered.” Karnila quipped, crossing her arms.

Amora turned the letter over in her hands, she studied it like it was a precious flower or piece of jewellery. It simply said Enchantress.

“By who?”

“I do not know him,” Karnilla replied “Who is it from?”

Amora folded it slightly in her hand, even though there was no evidence of who it was from on the outside, she wasn’t taking any chances.

“No one.” She said quietly.

Thankfully, Karnilla took the subtle hint (and the glare from Amora) to leave the room so she could tear the letter open just as the door closed.

_Enchantress,_

_Firstly, apologies for such an abrupt departure. Hopefully you aren’t too lonesome. Secondly, promise to teach me that spell you spoke of in the library?_

_The kindest of all regards,_  
_Trickster_

There was a light tint to her cheeks and she was unsure why. The boy had barely written anything, it wasn’t fulfilling or exciting - but why did it make her long for more? Possibly a paragraph, all the trouble for the delivery and just sentences…  
The letter was folded over and stuffed into her pocket, she supposed this was just Loki’s dry and satire humour provoking her thoughts to think of him.

* * *

The training yard was ugly. Amora disliked it more than any room in the palace (being that she’d only seen a handful). It was busy, irrational and always full of sweaty, unruly men who spent their hours prodding each other with swords.

There was no need to hang around long, she was in search of one particular person. In the corner of her eye, she saw that Sif girl crossing the courtyard with a sword almost the size of her on her hip.

“Skurge!” She called after realising her gaze was drawn too long on Sif that she almost missed Skurge.

There was a feeling inside of her that suggested Skurge was the go-between. It was unlikely Loki would trust anyone but himself to deliver the letter but seeing as he couldn’t do it, Skurge would be the next best postman.

Skurge dropped his shield and hurried towards Amora, they were separated by the short wall between the pathway and actual sparring area. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead before addressing her “Lady Amora, pleasure to see you.”

“Thank you,” she looked up at him studiously “for the delivery and for not letting Karnilla open it.”  
Skurge was blank before breaking into a grin “I had quite specific instructions, Lady Amora.” He seemed quite pleased with the verbal thanks, looking away from her “Karnilla was interested, though I made it very clear it was for your eyes only.”

Amora enjoyed the privacy between her and Loki, and the fact that Skurge was content with keeping it that way. Even if it meant being the brief go-between.

“Would’ve it have been so awful if she saw what was written?” He asked, diverting her attention.

“Not terribly,” she shrugged “she would’ve just used it to further her separation campaign against - “ she looked at him, hoping he would fill in the blanks.

“Ah, of course,” Skurge looked over his shoulder and then stepped closer to Amora “I heard about Thor’s little row with you in the gardens.”

With her face breaking into a worry, Skurge brought up his hands to diffuse her oncoming anger.

Her eyes darkened “How did you - “

“Don’t fret, it seems it was only I - he arrived in the yard fuming, I was there and he was muttering your name - “ he looked again “ - quite aggressively.”

She snorted “Oh, Thor.”

Skurge picked up his shield and seemed to say goodbye to Amora who was happy to turn away and spend another evening in the library, until a voice interjected.

“He told us.”

Sif tried to give the impression of confidence, and it wasn’t Skurge that was intimidating her, it was Amora. She sort-of sauntered towards the two on the yard side with her revelation.

“He told us before he left, that he had an argument with you.” That stupid obnoxiously large sword was attached to her hip, pulling her posture to one side.

“Right, well - “ Amora dramatically shrugged after waving her hands “I don’t really care.”

“He said you called him an ass.” Sif said, although she didn’t appear too feigned.

“Oh, I think I did.” Amora pouted then walked away, having little to no time for offspring warriors of Asgard. Skurge’s chuckle followed her as she paced through the corridors of the palace.

* * *

Amora was briefly annoyed about Sif and her stupid, dramatic one-liners. How dare she involve herself in a private conversation between her and Skurge! She was simply problematic, her tactics varying depending on whether she was batting for Thor or standing alone. Amora preferred the latter, at least plain, vain Sif could hold decent conversation.

The mood lifted as Thor and Loki returned a few days later, Amora waited casually in the gardens for him, he would find her. Naturally. She’d fallen on her back to relax against the grass as a figure suddenly shadowed her.

“Trickster.” He threw his hand towards her to lift her from the ground as she called him by his nickname, a familiar smile etching onto his lips.  
“Enchantress.” She laughed against him as he embraced her, she drew out her dramatic words “I have been _absolutely lost_ without you!”

It had only been a few days, under the circumstances it rattled Amora because of Thor’s darkened moment. But she put that aside as she could bitch to Loki later about it, and maybe she did miss him, he didn’t have to know that though…

Loki smiled at her as she fixed herself. There was something hidden behind his features, carefully masked. Amora could tell. She would retrieve that from him at some point, the sooner the better so she didn’t have to deal with their dramatics.

“I suppose this would’ve been better if it were a loveless love letter.” Amora whispered, pulling the letter Skurge had given to Karnilla out of her pocket.

“ _Love letter_ \- it - “ his protesting was amusing, a feverish tint colouring his cheeks. He blushed so easily.

“I only jest,” she smiled up at him “so, do you want to learn that spell?”

Loki was afar in his thoughts, his face a collection of worry and stress, taking a moment before replying “I can’t - I need to just - I’ll come find you later on, would that be alright?”

Amora wasn’t alarmed, but taken aback. Loki jumped at her offers, whether it was a lesson or just spending time with her. He seemed on edge and was continuously shifting on his feet. She nodded as he passed her, almost hurried. Turning round to see where he was heading, she caught Thor’s stare as he joined his brother. Thor smirked.

Amora’s everything burned as the two walked away. Whatever happened on their trip, whoever Thor had introduced him to, if he did...there was a suspicious feeling rising in her chest that she was unsure of. Loki would undoubtedly be back by the hour, begging her to teach him that spell.

* * *

Amora flinched as Karnilla drew the curtains back in their tutelage room, the sunlight beamed onto her and she immediately brought her hand up to her face to block it.

Tiredness crept over her as her shoulders sunk further into the shelves she was leaning against. Practicing sorcery would’ve been an appropriate lie, that she was overcome by fatigue due to endless spell-casting.

Truthfully, she’d introduced Loki to her chambers the previous evening and they’d spent every moment since studying, he kept his promise that he would join her into the evening. Well, mostly. She allowed him to read her personalised scrolls and special books she kept under her bed, she explained how creating a physical version of a spell in a cauldron was beneficial to the visual of the spell and most importantly, enjoyed spending time with him technically outwith the palace.  
They hadn’t rested, just relaxed in each other’s company. Amora hadn’t divulged her experience with Thor to him, she was unsure if he knew or not. She decided against it. Not knowing if Thor was the type to express the details of his bedmates to everyone but his family. If she didn’t think about Thor, she didn’t think about the situation he created.

Karnilla wasn’t best pleased that Loki had been in both Amora’s room and her classroom. She’d found them lying into each other against one of the bookshelves, having ventured from Amora’s room after uncovering absolutely every object of interest (Amora made sure to show off her rather large closet, even though Loki had no interest whatsoever).

“Abide by the terms of our agreement, _smár norse_.” Karnilla strummed her fingers against a hardcover that she picked up from the floor. There was no wool over Amora’s eyes, Karnilla was a mother on paper but in no way was it shown in reality. This didn’t bother her in all honesty, yet Karnilla somehow made the process of adoption and relocation sound like a business plan.

“You said I can have friends in my room.” Amora yawned “I only brought him in here to show him where you taught - he was impressed.”

Loki was impressed. Amora advertised the cauldrons and showed transcripts of dark magic to him, she dotted around the room grabbing items that would catch his attention. When she turned her back to carefully place Karnilla’s prized collection of feather tools back down, Loki had the audacity to throw a spell at her - one she taught him.

She’d gotten him back by conjuring up wisps of golden sparks to shoot at him, fizzing into his skin to briefly sting him. Amora matched his expression with raised brows, questioning if he would apologise, and if not, would care to suffer. She’d known the boy for not that long but well enough that he would put up the fight instead of surrendering. Loki ran out of counterspells first, having most of them derived from Amora. His hands passed over the soft black-bordered books on the desk, he grabbed on and swatted Amora with it, rather gently too. Ever the martyr, Amora reached for a thicker book with a harsh spine and forcefully bashed it on his chest, he pretended to be hurt to not affect her pride. She did use a lot of force.

“I care little for how impressed the Prince was,” Karnilla began slotting books back to their respective homes “You may have acquaintances in your room, though not at unruly hours.”

After their impromptu battle, they sat against the bookshelf they’d rid of books for weapons, calming from the heated duel. Amora’s head came to rest on his shoulder, eyes fluttering to try and stay awake. He stiffened under her, as he did whenever she touched him, which was more and more by the day. Then, as if on cue, Karnilla sweeped in, and contrary to what Amora thought was about to happen. Loki just sat up, greeted Karnilla as if she was opposite him at the dining table, politely said goodbye to them both and left. In such an organised manner that it didn’t just appear he was sleeping against his father’s enchantress’s apprentice.

“It’s not as if he slept in my bed,” Amora was going to continue down the ‘he’s not my boyfriend’ path but the pure horror across Karnilla's face stopped her in her tracks “I mean, we’ve only ever spoke and studied.”

“And that is all you can do with the Prince,” Karnilla had strolled over to her “he is not yours. Continue to bond, I know he is fond of magic. But you do not disrupt the rules I set for you.”  
Well, _rules were made to be broken,_ Amora thought.

* * *

Amora deemed herself to be many things, a sneak was not one of them. She had snuck between columns in the palace to unintentionally overhear conversation (that regarded her so she told herself she most definitely was not a sneak). While quietly leaning against the column she summoned up multiple excuses to reason her staying.

Karnilla had given her free time in order for her to search out scrolls relating to her lessons. Re-reading the same curriculum-abiding textbooks was not nearly as interesting as finding the ‘ _dark and demented_ ’ content. She usually beckoned Loki to join her, not only was he interested in the same treasure but he was an enjoyable company (another benefit was that he was taller and could reach the higher shelves).

“She is not a bad influence.”

Amora snatched a look at the two Princes from where she was hidden, draped in a shadow. Prior to craning her neck round a large column, she’d heard a familiar voice arguing with another.

“She’s not a good one, either.” Thor retorted.

“You don’t know her.” The footsteps stopped, and the other set joined momentarily.

“And you do?”

“Well - “

“Father says she is not like the others, that Karnilla took a risk - “

“And suddenly he knows the intentions of every individual in this realm?” Loki snapped back, a slight raspiness emerging.

Amora knew, like most, that Odin didn’t appreciate her. Although he didn’t exactly enjoy the company of any of Karnilla’s apprentices. So she never felt indifferent to the quick-passing looks and thinned lips when he spoke to her.

“It’ll do you no good to turn your abruptness onto father, he knows what - “ Thor was usually his simple condescending tone, especially for those that were of course younger but the people he felt he could belittle easily and regularly.

“And where did he happen to find all this _extensive_ knowledge of Amora?” Loki replied curtly “I don’t recall him excelling at telepathy.”

With her disliking of Thor growing, she wouldn’t add this incident to the list. Thor had barely any concrete intelligent thoughts himself, he was only speaking Odin’s overheard words. Whether he liked Amora or not, it didn’t prickle at her the same way it did to some.

“Like I said, it’ll do you no good to turn your anger and abruptness onto father.” Thor repeated, tone simmering “I have only the best interests in you.”  
Amora pulled herself back into the darkness, quietly simmering with anger similar to Loki’s. Although his was not the same, Thor hadn’t offended him, just his friend.

* * *

Amora followed Loki one afternoon as he introduced her to a secluded spot across the gardens, it was more or less like a temple. A light-stoned open area with scriptures printed on the walls. Well, half walls, the place was practically in ruins. It was home to overgrown plants and flowers that had forced their way through the cracks, like the stream that was flowing from the far ravine had also created an opening, crossing the stone floor.

“What is this place?” She asked, stepping over a shrub as she tried to keep up with him. Loki was ahead of her ascending up a few steps in the temple, he looked back at her and offered his hand.

“It’s an old prayer room, it used to be connected to the palace centuries ago - “ he laced their hands together as he helped her step over the small stream, she enjoyed the partial hiccup in his step as they connected “ - when the back house was renovated, this was left as a garden was wanted instead.”

“It’s quite far from the palace, don’t you think?” She asked “they must’ve wanted a huge garden.”

“Exactly,” he stopped and turned, facing Amora for a moment before gently grasping her shoulders and turning her round.

Puzzled at first, but as her eyes relaxed on the view instead of him. She realised in the place of ruins, she stood at a height where the garden was a beauty, as it always was. Yet no balcony or pavilion could equate to the view of the heaven-like landscape. The garden crossed for miles, delicately organised like a painting, or something even more beautiful.

“Ah, I see.” She spoke after taking in the view “good design choice, I guess.”

She felt him puff out like a peacock as he sided up behind her, and she also felt his gaze upon her “I just thought you’d enjoy the view.”

She turned to face him, drawing out a dramatic sigh “I am.”

Amora wondered if he’d brought anyone else here, or if he even had thought of showing someone else the place. By the flush of his cheeks and his immediate pinkish glow, he told herself that she was the first.

“Come here,” she snaked her arm through his and led him to the sparse stream crossing through the ruins.

Kneeling down, she ran her hands in the water and swirled her fingers around, watching the pieces of dirt dance in bends. Loki sat down next to her, making verbal noises of appreciation in the form of ohs-and-awes.

“I suppose I better return the favour,” Amora winked at him “since you showed me such a dashing view.”

Her voice enchanting and features arranged in a coy manner, she leaned towards him and slowly closed her eyes, feeling him shuffling towards her. The only sound was the swishing of her fingers still running in the water, a gentle breeze that pushed them further together until their lips brushed. She smiled.

“ _Water_.”

Loki widened his eyes, a little confused until she twisted from him and returned to playing with the water.

“What?” He asked, eyes following her hands.

“I’ll show you how to bend water, it is quite simple - “ she threw her hand up in a small gesture, the water rose from the bed and copied the movement of her hand until she balled her fist and it fell “ - see?”

Amora didn’t wait for an answer, instead taking his obedient hand and showing him how to copy her. He had soft hands, she had noticed when taking them before, and he liked being touched, she found after realising he beamed every time she showed him a trick or spell by physically taking his hands and performing it. Sometimes she believed he purposefully lacked because he craved her touch.

“Who taught you water spells?”

Amora was impressed that he knew Karnilla had never educated anyone on water spells, he never asked where her other spells came from - assuming it was Karnilla. Yet he was interested and eager to know more about her, constantly trying to shed her layers.

“Well, not Karnilla,” she confirmed “it was my mother.” Tracing the back of his hand, she repeated the movement of her own “children can easily pick up water spells, so that was the only trick she could show me - like this - “ she showed him with her free hand what to do and he copied, only a sprinkle of water following.

He made a face “Oh,”

“No child gets it on the first try,” she quipped, laughing after as she looked at his sour face. He tried again without her help, but with a little more passion and as he shot his hand up, a strong following of water joined and reached over them. Loki sucked in his lip as he became less of the master as the water became uncontrollable. Amora, leaning back on her elbows and refusing to step in, lifted her head up to follow it, quite entertained.

In one fast motion, Loki balled his fist like Amora had previously in hope of ceasing the movement of the free-willed water. Amora’s mouth quickly dropped open to protest as the water dropped over her, rinsing through her hair and clothes.

“ _Oh my_ \- “ Both of Loki’s hands reached towards her as if that was going to miraculously make her dry. She grinned at him, as she blinked the water out of her eyes. For the record, he was mortified. With hair sticking to her face and beads of mascara running down Amora’s face, her grin widened, laughing she turned to him “It’s okay, trickster.”

“I’m sorry,” he said and continuously repeated all forms of apologies as she sat up, wiping and unintentionally smearing mascara down her cheek “I suppose I look wretched.”

“No, no - you have never looked more enchanting.” He had maintained a profound expression, sympathetic and cautious, but with Amora’s blackened eyes and soaked hair, he burst into laughter.

She leaned back again, allowing the sun to pass over her and hopefully dry her a little. There wouldn’t be much fun in crossing the palace completely drenched. She reached her foot out in front of her to poke Loki in the side, who was still chuckling.

“Well, you were lucky.” She scanned every bone-dry part of him, not even his face had a splash of water on it “ _hm, lucky..._ ”

He looked back at her, cocking his head, confused “lucky?”

“Yes, Lucky?” She preened at him, running her tongue along her teeth and poking him again. Supposedly, she would have to sit there until every part of her was dry again, and she would, if Loki was willing to stay too.

* * *

Amora and Loki developed a perfect, untarnishable affiliation over the years. Beginning with tame sorcery lessons and staggering towards bending the rules and attempting dark magic that wasn’t allowed. Amora gained a friend, that is what she decided to call him, and it was the first one she had. Loki now had an excuse to leave sparring early and something to wear on his arm at boring dinners and feasts.

Her lust of Thor grew cold, especially after the incident of his oversharing to fulfil his ego. There were some cold whispers that suggested Loki was her pawn in disrupting Thor, that she was drawn berserk because of Thor’s ‘rejection’ of her that she had to toy with something, or someone, he loved to annoy him. This irritated her at first, and she listed all the damaging spells she knew that would work on him, but then became content with invoking fear in him whenever she neared. She enjoyed that rather than using one damning spell against him, the effects lasted longer.

Karnilla was forced to expect to see Loki hanging around her classroom, she didn’t like it, but there were only so many times Amora would be told. It wasn’t just her in space they would fetter, she became accustomed to waiting on him after timetabled sparring practice. Or schooling. Or anything that was royal related, both he and Thor suffered through the activities. Amora had seen Sif on more occasions, she would too hover outside the royal chambers, waiting for Thor obviously. Amora hadn’t chosen to bond with her, or anyone else, she was well-suited to her current preferences.

* * *

_There is no acknowledgement of strangers in this house._

As Amora grew, her mind became stronger both in the art of magic and self-confidence. With her ability sharper, beauty more radiant than ever and a sense of style swiftly changing from loose gowns to possibly more restrictive clothing - not that she was partaking in limiting activities - Amora had deservedly become the young woman she desired. Designing a mould for herself based on what she appreciated and admired in others, and tailoring it to her own personalised taste - all that could be said was that the darker the emerald she donned, the darker her tastes and desires became.

The only comparable tenacious figure was Sif, who had taken the more prestigious route. Sif was driven by her enemy; a man refusing her skill because of her sex. Which happened frequently to Sif. She became stronger and fiercer than most of the male warriors, she had almost rid herself of the ' _female warrior_ ' title she'd been given. Although, it had somewhat dampened her friendship with Thor, who struggled to define and read boundary signs. Younger versions of themselves had no issue throwing each other to ground when sparring, especially when sparring turned to a heated, flirtatious dance. Amora was always unsure if they'd ever actually spoken into the night, or if it was just physical. Sif enjoyed Thor's presence and her eyes tried not to follow him when he entered a room, it was simply ambiguous on the surface.

Likewise, Amora enjoyed Loki’s company. She actually began longing for it, especially when he was away on trips. Although, not like a drooling wife, she just fancied tea with him or sorcery practice. That’s all they ever seemed to do. Perhaps it was noticed that their awkward adolescent phase gradually progressed to snarky and sarcastic young adults. With very little time for thinking twice about consequences of one's action or revising the rules. Amora worn the rule book out in her first few weeks anyway so Karnilla had given up moulding her into a mini-version of herself and instead only pulled on the reins when necessary.

Amora was still approached at feasts, usually by men that felt her rising repletion was masked by self-esteem; a trait they weren't fond of in women. They reserved it for themselves in order to boast and show-off, feeling that they were rightfully so allowed to be because of their previous achievements in battle, laddering to positions of power - it was ultimate ego boost that most men needed in order to reel maidens in. At a recent feast celebrating Frigga's birthday (this type of party being the most bearable, based solely around Frigga so it couldn't exactly be boring). Amora had more than indulged in fine wines due to the absence of Loki from her side who joined his mother to greet guests throughout the night, occasionally slipping away to dance with her, slowing her consumption of alcohol.

"You truly do look enchanting," he whispered close to her ear, hands grazing her back secured themselves as he began more or less holding her up.

"You also look pretty." She slurred as her legs wobbled underneath her " _very pretty,_ especially this hair, Lucky."

Maidens grooming themselves in the reflection of the goblets glanced over towards Amora, in fear of looking any longer they would possibly turn to stone. Loki was chuckling as Amora's hands crawled past his polished armour, underestimating the strength of her touch as her hands pressed forcefully against his head, her attempt at stroking was less gentle and more of a tugging, forceful gesture.

"Before I reunite with my mother, I'll take you to bed." He spoke softly to her even though stronger tones may be more effective in penetrating her drunkenness. The smile across his face was unable to escape, unlike the one he donned throughout the night to charm guests at his mother's wishes. A hand of his own retrieved the one she had locked onto his hair, pulling her away gently.

" _Will you now?_ " She dramatically purred, allowing her hand to be held in his "I thought you'd never ask."

Loki had only rolled his eyes at the comment, but in her wayward state she had caught his chuckle. On the way to his room - it was argued that her room was too far away for her to walk to in her incoherent state, so he’d suggested his, plus he was rejoining his mother as soon as Amora fell asleep. Amora had ended up falling over the threshold, almost taking the guard with her and erupting into shrillish, booming laughter. It had taken a matter of minutes for Loki to heave her up and put her into bed, there was a brief moment she tried to pull off her dress repeatedly reminding Loki that she couldn’t possibly sleep in a ballgown.

After persuading her to _please keep her clothes on_ , he’d pulled the furs up to her shoulders - she mirrored the clingy actions of a feline, claws attaching to his clothing as he persistently tried to release her.

“Goodnight, ‘mora.” He said once freeing himself, she lay in a messy heap in her wine-stained dark dress against his equally dark sheets.

Absentmindedly, he hovered over her as his mind was a tick-tocking reminder that his absence would be noticed by his mother.

"Can I," she softly spoke into the pillow, drunkenness suddenly sobering (or so he let himself believe) "can I have a kiss?"

The image of Frigga and Odin pondering about his whereabouts fled his mind, although he wasn’t certain he heard her correctly, but she repeated it softly against the silk. He had thought about kissing her before, even dreamt of it. Their adjoined childhoods were spent at each other’s side as soon as she arrived; intaking him with her sorcery, captivating him with her eyes, intriguing him with her intelligence and presence that no other could match. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought of kissing her, it was his first thought at noon and the last thought at night.

Amora had been staring into the space behind him, eyes not truly settling on him but that could be the wine. Upon further inspection, her lips were tattooed a dark red and her eyes were glossy. Many moments he had shared with her, wondering if one would be the pinnacle where they were ultimately blossoming from friends to, well, something he never said aloud.

His mouth quickly ghosted over her the back of her hand, and then her eyes swept closed. They still had some growing up to do.

* * *

The splitting ache in her head only reminded her that she was alive, not dead. She felt deceased purely because of the empty, sick feeling in her stomach and upon reflecting in the mirror on the desk, the lines of mascara leaving the corners of her eyes and plump, red-bruised lips all staring back at her unruly mane.

“Good gods.” she whispered to herself, the current feat of emotions and ache tripled, or quadrupled even once she realised her surroundings. Amora had spent more time in Loki’s room than her own; she had analysed every book and trinket adorning his shelves and envied the sheets and blankets that were far more luxurious than her own.

Thor, who was older, had plenty of female visitors to his chambers - his room was further along the corridor, Loki and Amora knew when he was occupied with post-evening activities of his own as they judged each and every maiden that passed the door. It was a routine they knew so well, that when that time of night arrived Amora knew she had to return to her own chambers.

Obviously, she made Loki walk her there (not that he wouldn’t if unasked, she knew Frigga had ingrained such gentlemanliness into both her sons and made sure they performed it too). Karnilla wasn’t always pleased to watch Amora be escorted back at such hours, but if she knew Amora had actually slept in his bed - the post-midnight arrivals would be well-received.

“Finally, you’re awake,” Loki breezed into the room, looking far better than she did “I thought you died.”

His eyes ran over her, a smug smile leading the composition of his features as he walked over to the teaset on his desk. Amora had suggested months before that he should have a set of mugs and a pot in his room, for all they did beside practice sorcery and berate each other, was drink tea. That suggestion turned to persuasion because Amora really didn’t appreciate the servants' raised brows and puzzled glances as if to say, _why are you always here?_

“Did you sleep well?” he leaned against the desk, pausing from making the tea to give her one of his self-righteous looks “you had _quite_ an evening.”

Amora’s brow arched as she brought her knees to her chest “Why am I in your bed?” then she let herself glance at him, not allowing her mind to entertain exaggerated thoughts because she knew there must be a simple explanation.

“You don’t remember?” he then pantomimed a hurt expression across his face and placed a hand over his heart “ _ouch_.”

“Loki - “

“Relax,” he watched the immense panic rise on her face and tried not to be insulted by it “You slept here - “ he gestured to the bed and then spun towards the chaise lounge “ - and I slept there.”

“Oh,”

“You were drunk, very drunk.” he said once sitting on the bed, handing a cup of tea to her “I couldn’t exactly cavort to your chambers in the state you were in, so I brought you here,” that grin danced it’s way back on his face “I think you had more than one bottle.”

"With just Sif for company, wouldn't that require more than the bottle for you too?" she said groggily, groaning into her tea as her hair fanned out around her with some golden locks still entwined in the bun.

"You were uncharacteristically friendly, too," he chided, recalling her over affectionate ways. She relaxed once she realised the only intimacy shared was Loki picking her up and carrying her to bed.

"You did mention that you thought my hair was better than yours, which is obviously, drunk or not, is true." he continued, watching her all but revel at his broadcasting of her intoxicated self.

"I don't doubt I complimented you while tipsy," she reclined into the headboard watching him burst into laughter "but your hair better than mine? _Please_."

“ _Tipsy!_ ” he repeated after suppressing his laughter “Amora, one more drink and I wouldn’t put it past you to cut off your hair, destroy the great hall or bed half the council!”

“Stop listing all the things Thor has done after one gulp of mead!” she playfully kicked him after placing her cup aside “except maybe that last one…”

Amora wasn’t embarrassed about the state he described her in, she simply noted it as a one-off, having never consumed that much alcohol to alter anyone’s perception of her so much. Still, she was appreciative of the fact Loki was the one to witness and not someone like Sif or Thor, the thought merely sending shivers up her spine.

"You also asked for something else," he looked at her quizzically as her eyes darted back to his face instead of at the ceiling, as if she knew what he was going to say. Yet, she had no memories of the previous evening but there was a prang in her stomach, a small begging hoping that whatever he was about to reveal would not be an absurd erotic desire from her in the midst of intoxication "you asked for a kiss."

"Oh," she relaxed, shoulders dropping - the relief not appearing on her face because she was not, in any way, transparent, especially not to Loki even if he believed he could see through her "did I get one?"

"Only on your hand," he said "you were very drunk."

Then his eyes briefly met hers and then looked back at her hand, as if she was simply going to lift it and ask for a reminder.

"Ever the gentleman." She hummed, hands staying round her knees, her eyes met his unblinkingly and then there was a strange feeling in his chest, but he brushed it off as laughter ache.

* * *

_And it tasted like revenge, and it felt like revenge. But was it revenge?_

Amora flexed her leg in front of the mirror, feeling the suede on her thigh-high boot with her fingers “I don’t know if I like them.”

Loki had accompanied Amora to the town, she insisted on his presence (little did he know it was due to his particular eye for fashion, and she wanted his opinion). It was rather an exciting experience skirting throughout the shops and stalls with a Prince, double the amount of eyes were on her more than usual. There were whispers amongst customers suggesting she was a new lover, Loki had furiously blushed as the comment was particularly loud and Amora only swung her arm around his neck, pretending to pepper him with kisses.

Loki, standing next to her, wearing the opposite boot only rolled down to his knee, flicking his foot up and down “they’re quite nice.”

“You look like a pirate.” Amora averted her gaze to his figure, following his long legs and the one suiting the boot so well, even better than her.

“You look like a harlot.” He laughed, gently elbowing her in the side as she pushed him back.

 _“Hey!_ ” She raised a brow at him as she laughed lowly, propping her leg onto the stool in front of her, her skirts falling back to expose her thigh.

“Jest!” He called out, arms in surrender as he fleetingly glanced at her leg “you look divine.”

Amora turned sharply, refusing to let him see her upturned sides of her mouth as a pink tint lightened her cheeks. Focusing on how she looked from behind while staring into the mirror, she shrugged “I think I should’ve gotten them in green.”

“You have everything in green.”

“And I’ve noticed you do too, as of late.”

That furious heat returned to his cheeks. He donned his dark colours daily but began accessorising with emeralds and olives. A colour worn solely by Amora - apparently the colour green was associated with taboo or bad luck, Karnilla explained to her. It only made her wear it all the more.

It wasn’t alarming to Amora to know that her closest companion was going to be ripped away from her someday. While she was quite used to isolation and having immediate family separated from her, she didn’t expect it to constantly follow her. However, she befriended a Prince, an Asgardian Prince at that. It was no secret that betrothals were still large and legal in Asgard, it had forever been the done thing. Some other realms had perhaps forgotten the tradition, but Odin liked to remind both his sons, but especially Karnilla from time to time. As it was a warning.

“Were Frigga and Odin an arranged marriage?” Amora turned her head to face him, they were both lying in the grass near her chambers. In a secluded spot, they were shielded from the noisiness and abruptness of Asgard. They’d gone for a stroll in the smaller gardens surrounding her chambers, Amora was trying to break into the new boots.

“Yes,” Loki had turned to to meet her, he was lying the opposite way so his eyes were directly looking at her mouth, they had to keep flicking up to look at her and sometimes he struggled to pull his gaze away “they were courting for a long time, so I think they came to terms with it and each other.”

Amora’s hands were fidgeting with flowers she was plucking from the grass, and then destroying over her dress “Oh, so you and Thor don’t have any say in it?”

She wondered if he realised he was constantly staring at her lips, and then he seemed to think for a moment before shaking his head “We don’t, father decides and some members on the council put their own input towards it.”

His lips did look unusually soft.

“Do you know who you’re going to get?” She asked, eyes lighter as her hands continued picking flowers apart.

“I don’t,” he looked away, turning back to stare towards the sky “there are always rumours, but Thor and I are somewhat in the dark about it until the betrothal day, which is next week - “ he paused “ - and you know that.”

“Yes I have it written in pink ink in my diary!” She laughed, pulling her face away from his. Her heart panged slightly at the confirmation, and if she was honest, she knew the betrothal date was coming up but not that soon.

“Are you going to be nice to her, whoever she is?” He asked, the image of Amora and a strange girl cat-fighting in his mind.

Had she mentioned his dark curls? His hair wasn’t naturally straight, it was all wispy and has twirled curls at the ends.

“I’m going to be horrible,” she scoffed as she listed all the horrid things she would do to the innocent, random girl.

“She best be nice to me, Lucky.” Amora said moments later, catching his gaze again as she did when she used his nickname, his eyes would always light up joyfully like a child being handed a present.

“Of course she will,” he brought a hand up to place on her hair that was cascaded out on the grass “otherwise we will just have to send her back!”

She broke into fits of laughter as her head sunk back into the grass, Loki wasn’t quite as hysterical as he took the time to catch a glimpse at all her angles; the sharpness of her neck as she lifted her head, her wide smile bursting with giggles and the way she always curled into her sides after as if she was embarrassed.

“She better like sorcery.” She whispered, now against him, still opposite but now both turned on their sides.

“She better.” He whispered back, eyes lingering on her lips again.

* * *

Thor was kicking pebbles when she joined him, he huffed a hello. They didn’t really like each other, but they could handle plain conversation and sitting at the same table during feasts. He was moody and stiff and when she threw a quick jibe, he never returned one, just forced a smile.

"Did Odin give you an ugly maiden?" She chuckled, meeting his side to jab a sharp elbow into his side as she watched his face form a collection of disgruntled looks, with the addition of sunken shoulders to make it all the more obvious he was sad.

Maybe he had got a girl that didn't suit him, maybe that's why he was so pissed. Hah.

"No," he sighed "she is beautiful, and smart. Fierce, strong - "

"Alright, I didn't ask for her debutante scripture - what's her name?"

Amora watched him as he lightened when she referenced the debutante ball. The previous one was a dramatic affair; Amora and Loki were practicing castings, changing the colours of maidens shoes and adding insects into their pretty flowered hair. Thor had an immense time that night, as he did at every ball. The golden centre of attention with maidens vying for his affection and some simply begging to be a dance partner. As he promised multiple young women multiple different things; dates, dances and the throwaway "Of course, I would love to show you around the palace" as the first destination on the tour was his sleeping quarters. The arrival of the ball usually meant the arrival of Frigga's be-a-gentleman speeches.

" _Sif_."

The word pulled her from Amora from her thoughts. She must've heard it wrong. Lady Sif, warrior-in-training - a betrothed! She watched his brows furrow as he said it, probably the first time he said her name aloud after he was told she would be his wife. Amora's mouth hung slightly open before she strung any words together. Many spectators spoke of their bond and questioned the authenticity of their friendship - surely he wouldn't spend so much time with her for nothing! People said the same about Amora and Loki, so, for once, she could actually emphasise with Sif. Thor and Sif had long been close friends, united by their competitiveness when it came to sparring and sword-fighting.

They were close friends. They were very close friends on the one occasion Amora and Loki wandered into the stables, catching Thor and Sif mid make-out. Though, not every incidental snogging session meant they should be married. Otherwise, Frigga and Odin could’ve picked from more than a handful of maidens.

"Oh," she spoke after a moment "I thought you were supposed to marry that Vanir girl."

She was never usually surprised but she didn't know what to say, or how to comfort him. There hadn't been a moment between them that wasn't light-hearted or heated, it wasn't as if she were Thor's first-in-line to go to when he was upset. When Thor and Amora could stand the other's presence, they had an array of insults to throw at each other. If it got a little more than heated, Loki would step in and diffuse the smoke.

Still, they didn't loathe each other. Thor believed Amora to be a bad influence, and he was used to his brother following him. Not adjoining with someone else, especially not a girl. However, if they didn't speak of their mutual dislike, they wouldn't come to blows and supposedly they would just deal with each other and get on.

"No, I'm not, according to my father" he shook his head and then glanced briefly at her "Loki is betrothed to her, Lady Sigyn or something."

Amora was unsure why her chest was constricting. She was always aware that the two princes were due to have arranged marriages and eventually they would have to meet/or know their soon-to-be wives. Even if they weren't wedded for a century, it was decided amongst the participating families and it was usually always unchanged. Loki and her had never touched on the subject - she once made a fleeting comment about the idea of his later wife being sick of her showing up to teach him new spells, and at that moment a look crossed Loki's face which she decided to tell herself was confusion. And not anything else. It would be particularly selfish of her to deny his marriage, it wasn't as if she wanted to marry him.

"It is like father allowing you to marry Loki," he continued, and Amora understood he meant it as comparison. Sif and Thor were friends. Amora and Loki were friends. However the tone on the word 'allowing' made her stomach turn, as if she was somewhat an inept, corrupted version of a maiden and the idea of her marrying into the Asgardian royal family was ludicrous.

Sif, as the lady betrothed to the first prince - it was a vast contrast to Lady Sif; sword wielder and groin destroyer (there had been a brief incident where Sif's leg lagged and Fandral's manhood took the unfortunate hit, both him and his ego remained forever bruised).  
While Amora and Sif distanced themselves from one another, and even though she didn't know nor cared what Sif thought of her, she still appreciated Sif's strong-mindedness and fierceness, especially around men like Thor and Odin, it was similar to the way Amora handled herself. Amora was fierce and opinionated, yet Sif stayed within the lines and Amora didn't really know what where the lines were.

"That is different." She replied "Your father sees me as Loki's companion, his bad influence" she rolled her eyes at Thor, knowing he had used that same line against Loki when in debate about Amora's intentions "The difference is, he likes Sif. I suppose it's a bit dim considering she's not exactly wife material. I'd take it as an insult, if I were her."

Thor seemed to be rewording a reply in his head and for once, Amora waited patiently. The doors opposite them swung open, situated on the opposite of the courtyard separated by a wide space where a beautiful fountain sat, gently spraying those who got too close with beads of water. Thor and Amora both looked up as Loki and a gorgeous, beaming maiden exited.

"Is it selfish of me if I don't want to share him, even if I'm not going to wed him." She whispered to herself at first, completely forgetting about Thor's existence beside her. He was equally transfixed on his brother and the fresh companion on his arm, he was used to seeing Amora there. The realisation that everything was going to change struck him, and with a shift of his shoulders, a shake of his legs to compose a firm-fitting stance, he hoped to shake that thought out of him.

"I suppose." He told her "I suppose you are just as selfish as I, for not wanting Lady Sif's hand. I know why I don't want her as a wife, but I'm unsure of your reasoning."

She wondered if he could see right through her, or if he was simply that dense. He looked at her then away again, then he walked off, probably off to either beg Odin to rethink his decision or have a quiet word with his mother about his true feelings, and how he felt overwhelmed all at once with everything. _That would be mature of him_ , Amora thought.

* * *

Karnilla led Amora through the grounds, she never walked by her side, always had to lead them. The billowing dark skirt trailing behind her, and the authority she held. When she stood back and gazed at Karnilla from time to time, in absolute awe of her stature and power, she made mental notes of traits she wanted for her own character.

“Have you met Lady Sigyn?” Karnilla has stopped abruptly, Amora almost slammed into her as she turned to face her.

“Lady _who_?” Amora asked.

“Lady Sigyn, _smár norse_.” Karnilla corrected with a plain smile “she was with Frigga yesterday, I spoke to her briefly and she’s very interested in the art of sorcery.”

A hollowness began in the pit of Amora’s stomach. Sorcery was the culmination of her bond with Loki. She took pride in the fact it was shunned by almost everyone else, Loki felt insulted but she succeeded in something others believed to be wicked and useless - she told herself they envied her.

“Lady Sigyn is interested in sorcery?” She drew out a dramatic act of disbelief “surely Odin won’t appreciate that.”

“The Allfather, _smár norse._ ” Karnilla corrected her again “she has an interest in it, yes, Frigga told her you could show her easy tricks.”

“Tricks?” Amora repeated “you said we don’t do tricks, you said you find it insulting when people refer to the art of sorcery as some simplistic trick!”  
Karnilla just gave her the same old stern look whenever she felt Amora was escalating the situation. As if on cue, Sigyn appeared with Frigga in the opposite direction.

Sigyn was a stereotypical maiden. She was unearthly beautiful, a gorgeous pair of dark eyes centre of a heart-shaped face. Her long dark hair meeting the white, floating skirts of her dress. She walked alongside Frigga and a hoard of handmaidens, as if she was already wifed to her son.

A beam appeared on Frigga’s face when her attention landed on Amora and Karnilla, sweeping towards them after she discarded her handmaidens, all except Sigyn.

“Good morning, Karnilla.” Then she turned to Amora “Amora.”

Karnilla replied politely as she could manage, Amora just nodded and kept an uneasy gaze on Sigyn.

Vanaheim must’ve been dim compared to Asgard because Sigyn’s eyes looked as if they were about to roll out of her head, they were huge saucer-like baubles. Before landing on Amora, they gazed at absurd things like the buildings, the sand speckles in the stone tiles and the fabrics hanging over the columns. Then she saw the most absurd thing of all: Amora.

“You must be Amira!” She threw her arms over an objecting Amora, who scowled at just Karnilla who just tutted in reply. _Who the Hel was Amira?_ Frigga has _just_ said her name.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Sigyn pulled back from the hug, a strong scent of roses and apples drifting with her.

“My name is Amora, actually.”

Karnilla retreated from her light conversation with Frigga, swapping the Queen of Asgard for her arrogant apprentice as she side-stepped to Amora’s side.

“Amora is my apprentice, Lady Sigyn.” Karnilla greeted her warmly, holding back her iciness. Sigyn appeared momentarily upset at mistaking Amora’s name, she placed a delicate hand over her head and profusely apologised.

Anger bubbled inside Amora. While she held disdain for Karnilla at times, she still felt special knowing they have a shared, united union. Amora was stuck with a silly nickname Karnilla pinned to her since birth (if that was even possible, considering their first meeting was as child and teacher) - yet Sigyn was Lady. Karnilla revealed more respect for a stranger than she had for her own apprentice.

“Amora is highly skilled at her craft,” Frigga said, continuing to be far too kind for her own good “I’m sure she would enjoy a turn at playing teacher and having an apprentice of her own.”

Frigga giggled softly and Sigyn channelled it as her own, agreeing and nodding approvingly with Karnilla and Frigga as if she was on their level. Little did Frigga know, Amora had found herself an apprentice - a student she could take on and share sorcery with - and he happened to be the betrothed to the girl standing in front of her.

* * *

“Do you like her?”

Amora was in the midst of packing books away after a tiring lesson with Karnilla. She’d long since mastered object divination but Karnilla insisted she sharpen her skills. Although, Amora knew she was receiving the impromptu lesson so her skills would be refined to show Sigyn.

“Who, Sigyn?” Amora replied, eyes drawn to the books in her hands that she collected to slot back into the shelves. She avoided eye contact mainly because Karnilla would be sending daggers for not appropriately referring to Sigyn with the correct title.

“Lady Sigyn, yes - she seems docile, sweet.”  
A bird was docile, a pet even. Amora would despise being referred to as such. She’d rather be named an abhorrent witch then a kindred, docile soul.

“Having spoken less than two sentences to her, I find her a little tame and boring.” Amora huffed, inspecting her nails.

“Ah, do you not find anyone that doesn’t share your tastes boring and uninteresting?” Karnilla replies, a slight smile upon her face.

“That’s because my tastes and interests aren’t boring, I just don’t tend to associate with the - docile types.”

“You understand what it means with the betrothal?” Karnilla had a way of speaking, that when she wanted attention and no one was giving it, the words themselves would crawl onto the receiver and alert them. Physically shake them and pull their head up if they could.

“I know what betrothals are.” Amora replied in an affronted manner.

“Do you understand what it means to you?”

“Pardon? Perhaps I’m mistaken, but I don’t recall being prepped to marry a stranger.”

“No, _smár norse._ ” Karnilla came to stand close to her, putting a hand on her shoulder “I understand your friendship with Prince Loki is important to you, and I won’t stop it’s continuation - but I suppose it’s best if it is less - “ she paused as she squeezed her shoulder “ - visible. The royal family are oh-so familiar with your attendance wherever he is, which is fine - but no more late night studies, no foolery, no indistinguishable affection between the two of you.” She retrieved her hand, connecting it to her own as she thumbed her palm “he is yours now, but he belongs to Lady Sigyn.”

By the end of Karnilla’s speech, Amora was reeling. She was furious that Karnilla had suggested - had intruded on her friendship with Loki. Pretending to have an interest, feigning a false nobility to order her to remove her attachments and make some space for Sigyn. It wasn’t sinking into her brain, and yet it still stung in her mind. Karnilla was wrong. Amora wanted to bite back at her and call her out for her ludicrous suggestions. Her skin pricked up a heat, and in the dirty reflection of a mirror behind Karnilla she noticed her pinked tint over her neck and shoulders.

* * *

Sif has been less than thrilled with her (Sigyn) presence at almost-every sparring match. Amora was unsure why, it wasn't as if Loki was going rounds with Sif - and Sigyn wasn't exactly engaged to Thor.

Amora reeled her head back in snarky laughter when Sif explained they were expected to bond, and had pre-arranged sessions of getting-to-know-each-other such as breakfast meetings, study sessions and bonding through the others medium.

“ _Oh, pack it in_!” Sif sent the boots that were piled on the floor next to her towards Amora’s head.  
It was unspoken, and untrue to those who asked, but Sif and Amora had become content in the other’s presence. They were not friends, not enemies.

Amora found Sigyn boring. When she first met Sif, at least she was slightly interesting before she got all twisted chasing Thor - but when she coherent, she was easy to speak to. Although, she was glad to never have a preconceived bonding session with the warrior, they’d spent enough time playing small talk at feasts when both Loki and Thor would disappear from their respective partners.

If it had to be, Amora was content with Sigyn at a distance. She was suffocating in the way the waters of Asgard were, pulling you under in sudden submersion and keeping grip until your eyes sleepily drew closed for the last time.  
In order to alter Sigyn and Sif, Amora wasn’t going to give her the pleasantries of small talk and converse with her only compelling side. Sigyn was just boring. She bombarded Amora with all sorts of questions, after finding her in the back of the library one afternoon. Hovering round like a mini-Karnilla, though less dark, daunting and demonic. Sigyn felt privy to the information regarding their friendship, whether she would accept a handwritten book detailing capturing all detail of communication wasn't exactly something Amora didn't excuse from her mind.

“Can you read that?” Sigyn asked, even though her voice was light and airy, it still surprised Amora because she was leaning right over her shoulder.

“Yes.” Amora had taken the liberty to slam the book closed. Sigyn clearly had an issue with the unreadable language but Amora had mastered uncommon languages of the Realms and found no difficulty sussing out difficult passages.

“I wish I could understand that,” Sigyn continued “my parents spent far too much on teachers and books for me just to only comprehend the main languages,” and then she laughed, and it filled the air as it always did. She would be heard from miles away with her laugh alone, attention drawn to her and her perfect face, delicate body and all-round absorbing presence.

“I have to leave now,” Amora removed her hand from where it had sunk into the side of her face while she listened to Sigyn, then stood up against an unmoving Sigyn.

“I want you to know,” Sigyn bit her lip and Amora couldn’t help noticing her fingers fidgeting with the tulle on her skirt “that I have no intention to stop your friendship with Prince Loki.”

Amora scoffed, deliberately in her face “Do you believe yourself to have an influence either way?”

“Well I - “

“You have not earned a title in Asgard, perhaps I am even more worthy than you.”

Sigyn opened her mouth to speak, and then didn’t. Instead her doe-eyes became defeated, gazing over Amora and then to the book in her hand. The solace in her face reminded Amora briefly of the day she met Sif, but Sif was stronger and defiant. Sigyn’s lip curled as something unusual passed over her features and then she drew a smile to Amora, who only breezed past her.

Gods, she was annoying.

* * *

Sigyn twirled in her rather unusual dress; it had a tremendous amount of pink feathers along the hem and a stunning gold bustier shining on her chest. Sif was close by, jesting with her fellow warriors who were dressed very differently to her. Her dark hair rolled down her back onto a cascading red dress that ran across the floor. Both women were not far from their subscribed suitors; Thor was hovering with his mates and Sif albeit a little more awkwardly than usual, and Loki quickly departed Amora to perform opposite Sigyn.

Amora and Loki had shown up late, which was not unusual for them. Frigga had only given a dismissive glance to the two of them but still kissed Loki and greeted Amora. Amora had weighed up whether to drop Loki in it to Frigga considering he was the reason their arrival was post-appetiser.

"Do you suspect Karnilla is looking for you?" He asked, waiting patiently as she attempted to work out how to braid his hair. Obviously braiding wasn't difficult, but the way in which the Princes had to style them most definitely was.

"Maybe," she replied with one eye on his hair and the other on the clock "she knows I enjoy your company, she's perhaps sick of reminding me to, _well_ , appreciate you from afar."

"She thinks you're fawning after me?"

"I think," She shrugged in return "and either her or Odin, or both, don't like the idea of that.” She lowered herself to whisper close to his ear “So, if I happen to appreciate you from a distance tonight, let it be."

He hummed in reply, looking into the mirror in front him, watching Amora straighten up in the reflection wearing furrowed brows and pouted lips as she struggled with the braids.

The dress hanging on her was unlike the ones she was supposed to wear. Actually, she wore more skin than cloth, a shoulder visible as the other was covered in emerald, trailing down her front leaving her stomach bare as it connected round her curved hips. Even though she wanted to shake Karnilla and Odin’s attention off of her and Loki, she was most definitely going to have double the eyes on her.

“Stop,” she broke away from her studious stare to smirk at him through the mirror “cease your wandering eyes.”

“ _They’re not wandering!_ ”

“Hmm, you’re right,” she pressed both hands on his shoulders “they are crawling over me.” then she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek “and, you’re done!”

With a squeeze to his shoulders, she nodded towards the mirror. He was impressed, and then wondered if she’d practiced after the last time she tried, having gone rogue and given him a style Volstagg wouldn’t even wear. And that man walked proudly with knots in his beard. His gaze lingered too long in the reflection as he studied Amora, she’d noticed his attention faded from his hair to her and appeared as if she was about to curse him or whip another catty remark at him. However her eyes briefly widened as she pulled him from his seat.

“We are so late,” she tried to hold in her laughter, knowing Loki would get a lighter disapproving look from his mother than Karnilla would give Amora “damn you.”

Amora sniggered to herself as she watched the feathers catch on the tiles and under the feet of bulky warriors. With Sigyn’s little frame against that of an Asgardian warrior; she was deemed for disaster. She seemed thankful to be released and suddenly under Frigga’s wing who led her towards Loki.

Frigga was circling both her sons and their made-up dates. Odin was somewhat acquainted with them, politely addressing Sigyn and Sif and strumming through scripted conversation before venturing towards someone more interesting in not the most discreet manner.

Amora learned against one of the columns further from the centre of the room, a hand outreaching to delicately swipe a goblet of wine from a tray carried by a servant. She noticed another feather crumpled under the foot of a maiden this time, not a warrior. Before it died it danced in the air swishing against the long glimmering legs of the ladies and boisterous, mostly drunk men.

“I don’t know much about clothes, but by Odin’s Beard the girl will be left stark after all those feathers despair.”

Amora arched herself slightly back to catch sight of the man who was also specialising in fashion commentary rather than social affairs.

“Skurge,”

She remembered his name, after he spoke to her in the courtyard that day. They’d spoken as they grew, never colliding personal lives but simply bonding over their shrewd, continuous bitchiness of the throne. Sure, she whined with Loki about how annoying Thor was or how Odin preened over Karnilla’s education of Amora. However, Skurge had little appetite for the throne, for the armies and royalties. He’s spoken of times where simple men fought others for land, for peace. Apparently he just didn’t like the extra shimmer in the armour.

“Lady Amora, you look enchanting.” He sat next to her after politely refilling her goblet.

“You don’t have to call me Lady, I’m not worthy of the title.” She snickered with him after he caught her eye roll and signature mockery of Odin, noting the time where he absconded one of the guards referring to Amora with a title.

“You are no less worthy of the title,” he lowered his tone “ - than Thor is worthy of the throne.”

“Oh, is that your goal? The throne.” She jested, her laugh sending shivers up his spine.

He turned to face her with a smirk, his kind eyes lighting up “You know I enjoy playing politics,” then returned to that whispering tone “the same way the King enjoys playing matchmaker with goldie and raven.”

Amora chuckled at his nicknames for the Thor and Loki. It’s not that he didn’t like them, he’d sparred with Thor (and won, every time) and very rarely spoke to Loki. Usually just by conversing with Amora until he appeared, appearing somewhat protective of her. Skurge just was more opinionated about the royal hierarchy than most, and Amora understood it. Although it usually reigned from the positioning of warriors, Thor immediately took the lead on trips, in packs, the king of the warriors in a way. Skurge felt he had to work and prove himself unlike Thor, who was gifted his warrior status from birth.

“So, is she _absolutely_ terrible?” He asked, pausing to sip from his goblet “does she _absolutely_ hate you?”

“Goodness, Skurge, you’re quite the bitch.” She unfolded her arms “and I don’t think she hates me, but this might make her.”

Amora twirled around, showing off her rather revealing gown with fabric delicately placed to conceal areas. Skurge lit up with a grin, and poured more compliments than necessary on her.

“Of course, she must despise you now.”

They both erupted into laughter, with Amora spilling a little wine over the floor. It seemed they were rather loud, some upturned faces threw looks at them, mainly the older guests. Amora caught sight of Thor dancing with someone that was not Sif, which wasn’t unlike him but surely that man could behave for one night.

Loki had quickly departed his bride-to-be as he made his way over towards Amora, greeting her appropriately with a kiss to her hand. Amora was dying to see Odin or Karnilla’s reactions at this point but couldn’t see past the mass of guests.

“Wouldn’t you be hung for that?” She smirked, pulling her hand away as Loki and Skurge shared a brief hello.

“For coming to talk to you?” He quipped, pulling a sad face.

“For conversing with a witch - that was what your father called me the other day, wasn’t it?” She said in a hushed tone that even Skurge was struggling to comprehend what she said.

“Oh I don’t think he was talking about you.” Loki replied with a dramatic eye roll, and then a sympathetic look “How are you, ‘mora?”

“From the hour we’ve been separated? Quite alright.” She leaned into him with a pronounced flirty grin to whisper some silly line or insult, but then saw Sigyn staring at her from far across the hall. She was in perfect view, as if the guests just decided to leave space for Sigyn to look directly at Amora.

“What happened to appreciating from a distance?” He whispered to her, the smile different from the one he drew for Sigyn - whose burning eyes were still on Amora. Loki reached to her head, fixing the golden, light tiara that was sitting on her golden halo of hair.

“You’re the one that came over here,” she squeezed his arm once it returned to his side “and go away, you’re going to get me into trouble even more!”

Loki pulled away from her as she sighed, a little too loudly. His eyes met Skurge for a matter of moments before he sauntered away.

Amora’s eyes followed him as he went back to escorting Sigyn around the hall, introducing her to important people. Amora could feel Skurge’s own eyes burning into her.

“What?” She looked at him with a raised brow.  
Skurge stared back at her for a moment, the curve of his lip more apparent “You’re doomed.”

Amora rolled her eyes as they both chuckled lightly.

She had counted seven feathers by the end of the night, scattered around the floor.

* * *

Sigyn was an almighty bitch. Amora could only concern herself with those that didn’t drain the life out of her, Loki was one of those people. Sigyn was not.

Perhaps that was something within her that did indicate jealousy, or possibly irritation. She didn’t enjoy Loki in the same way Sigyn did (or was supposed to, surely they couldn’t fall in love in a week) and her only romanticised feelings as of late had been for Thor. Which didn’t turn out...amazingly.

Still, Thor was incredibly handsome. She was a woman scorned after he exaggerated their night together to an awaiting audience. Morons. She would forget about him. Having Sigyn around like a lost puppy was driving Amora slightly insane. So much, that she herself was becoming the third wheel. So, she began declining the plans, finding other activities to amuse herself with.

Which is when, during a late evening where Sigyn had just insisted Loki take her stargazing or something like that, Amora remained in the warriors lounge. Having spent quite a good evening with Skurge, arguing about politics and while she wouldn’t say it to his face to refuse his ego, he was rather intelligent and she actually learned more about the politics and ethics of Asgard.

The evening with Skurge also taught her that he was not greatly informed on sorcery. Or so it seemed, he sussed the courage to ask her more personal questions, affairs of the heart he called it. Most men, and some women, would face a catastrophic burn of a raging flame sourced from her fingertips the second they paused for a reply.  
Skurge did not, he was able to articulate his thoughts in a way that didn’t preen nor offend “Are you jealous?”

“Of whom?” Amora flicked a page in the book on her lap, looking up at him nonchalantly.

“The Vanaheim girl.” She rolled her eyes as he replied.

“Why would I be?” Another page flicked, she wanted to emphasise that this conversation was a true bore.

“I just suspect,” he paused “you must have a little bit of a crush?”

“ _A crush_!”

Skurge laughed outwardly at her dramatics, relaxing into the chair knowing that he wasn’t going to be eternally cursed for asking outright “I’m sure he does too, you can see that.”

“I don’t...have a crush on him.” She hissed, pointing a thin finger at Skurge who was still chuckling.

“Oh, my apologies Lady Amora.” Though his knowing grin reflected that he truly wasn’t sorry.  
Amora wasn’t finding reasons to dislike Sigyn. She generally had a low tolerance for people, especially Vanaheim half-witches that were insisting on sharing her air. If Sigyn wasn’t with Loki, and that was very, very rare - she would poke around Amora, wanting to really get to know her.

It was just partial to the fact that with everyday lacking Loki at her side, she was... _sort-of_ possibly developing the _hint_ of a crush. Was it true that absence makes the heart grow stronger? Amora despised the cliche sayings, overused in conversation by the maidens her and Sif would make fun of. Oh, but she didn’t truly believe Loki to be inclined in her heart that way.

Spending time reading or working, an activity even something as simple as demonstrating how to braid his hair. They were activities where they simply would bond, they were easily balanced and meshed very well with each other. Still, Amora would dampen that tiny, minuscule part of her heart because she was a woman before lover, she didn’t intend to initiate her feelings. Because she had none. Of course.

Skurge would’ve been right, she told herself over and over. Loki wouldn’t spend so much time with her and not develop a little crush. Well, maybe that’s what happened with her - but Amora was crushing then Loki was surely infatuated.

Although, it was a week since she’d spoken to him properly, and she was growing frustrated because her heart wouldn’t simply deflate overnight. It was possible that this was the main factor that led her to do her worst possible act yet.

* * *

The libraries were stacked full of historical novels, magical texts and research papers that covered almost every part of the Nine Realms. Karnilla took her library excuse as the fact that she was learning, well, she was now. Amora would slide out of lessons before by saying she would spend time researching at the library and Karnilla usually sighed and let her, of course, it was only to spend time with Loki.

Now that he’d become preoccupied with pretty little Sigyn, Amora had actually gone to the library to read. Her fingertips danced along the tops of volumes she was searching through, she wanted to find something that would entertain her all evening.

And there, between a bended version of _Myths and Magic_ and a dusty copy of _Ancient Spells and Casting VI XII_ , was ever-simple Sigyn, cradling a stack of books in her arms. Amora peered between the books to catch sight of who she was with, not that it took much guessing.

“So, is there a certain order these must be read in? Like chapters?” Her voice was annoying, it was like a constant drawl.

Loki chuckled as he rearranged his own stack of books “Ah, not really. It depends where you want to start, see there’s casting and divination, or - “ and he looked around to find another book, pulling one from the shelf Amora was hiding behind. She instantly reeled back out of view, plucking a book off the shelf to hide her face.

“Amora?”

She pretended not to hear as a blush crawled up her skin. _Shit,_ she didn’t want to be caught presumably sneaking up on them.

“Hi,” She peeked from behind the book she was pretending to read, locking eyes with Loki as he gave a questioning glance.

“What are you doing here?” It wasn’t accusatory, he was genuinely interested, but Amora didn’t have to have a reason.

“It’s a public place, I want a book…” Amora clocked her eyes onto the fawning Sigyn behind him then to the pile of books she was loosely holding “...which seems to be what you’re doing too.”

“Hello, Amora.” Sigyn’s wide smile annoyed her, as if it was going to run off her face in the name of being so truly false.

“Uh, I’m showing Sigyn some of the - “ he nodded towards the books, not needing to read the titles aloud as Amora could identify from the coloured spines.

“How sweet.” Amora glanced back at her book briefly before slotting it back into the shelf.

“Will we see you at dinner tonight?” Sigyn, and it truly irritated Amora, looked so genuine when she asked.

Amora dragged her finger along the spines of the books as she walked towards the two of them, she pushed her bottom lip out before replying with a hard “No.”

Sigyn was either a good actress or actually real in her emotions, and Amora didn’t want to credit any talent to her but she barely believed her seemingly sad face as she pushed past the princess. As she continued to leave the library, Amora heard a shuffle of books and a quick excuse rolling off Loki’s tongue as he followed her.

She had nearly escaped him by refusing to acknowledge his fast-paced steps behind her, he ended up locking his hand around her arm in order for her to face him.

“Amora,” she dramatised her features so that she appeared somewhat shocked that he apprehended her “What’s wrong?”

Amora carried herself so that she didn’t have to be apologetic about coming off as rude or passive. She performed both with intent and unknowing to everyone else, she enjoyed how displeased others were with it. Loki, partly confused, slid his hand down to her forearm, keeping her from running away.

“Whatever do you mean?” She hummed “I just don’t fancy speaking to, um, Sigyn?”

She knew exactly what her name was and how to pronounce it, but again, she enjoyed the displeasure.

“Are you - “ he carefully worded his response “are you _unhappy_ with me?”

“For that to be, it requires I be happy with you primarily.” She remained neutral, her natural cold expression unmoving “what makes you think that?”

“I know we haven’t seen each other in the last - “

“I think you think I’m fussed about your whereabouts - which I’m not.”

Amora was a puzzle. Nothing could ever be said outright, it was like a lukewarm scavenger hunt actually getting through to her closeted emotions.

“Well, no, I don’t think you are - “ he squeezed her arm tenderly, features softening “I’ve missed you.”

Amora scoffed.

“You have Sigyn, you can’t miss me.” That burned him slightly as he guiltily looked away.

“Of course I can.” Loki squeezed her arm again, and she honestly felt he was doing it unconsciously, but still roughly released herself from his grasp as she replied “I don’t know why you’re so upset - I’m not spying on you, I just went to get a book.”

There was an awkward pause as both sets of eyes flickered down to glance at her empty hands.  
“You should go back, don’t leave her waiting.” Amora said coldly, no matter how sincere the comment was.

“Do you have plans later? We could finish translating those books you found.”  
Amora held back a sigh, she had missed him and felt rather ostracised because of Vanaheim’s finest. So, she nodded and just about held it together “Fine. That’s fine, I’ll see you later.”

Amora expected Sigyn’s sing-songy voice to call out for him, demanding his presence like a king to a peasant. She didn’t, Loki only spared a sincere smile, happy at Amora’s agreement before turning back to the library.

It wasn’t that she was so devoid of his attention that she spurned him. No. Amora just liked being first choice, everyone did. Sigyn and her were not the same type, same prize or same level. Sigyn was to be a wife and Amora only consisted of a...well Thor referred for her as a bad influence and Sif had pegged Loki and Amora as a dangerous duo. So Amora was, decidedly, Loki’s closet companion (besides Thor).

Still, it didn’t make her any less nervous about seeing him later. What had happened to them? A drink was the first thought in her mind as she travelled down the corridors, she needed to numb her thoughts. Sif and Thor, while probably despising their planned nuptials, were straightforward in their friendship. Well, they weaved in and out but at least they knew something was united between them.

Amora had known Loki for too long to write him off as a past ally, or pathetic friend. She wasn't going to be that condescending or untruthful in her thoughts.

The common room was a featured hang-out for warriors alike, none of the officials or delegates would be so unruly to be seen there. Even some of the maidens opposed it, having other places to delicately display their frames. It was nearly empty, Amora cursed to herself as she noticed Thor, staggering amongst the shadows. He seemed to be drowning his sorrows. Well, he was. Most definitely. The discarded mugs around him was almost laughable if he didn’t look so...sad. He held himself up against the column, pouring ale into his mouth as he noticed Amora.

“M’Lady,” he nodded as she walked towards him.

“Gods, you must be drunk.” She chuckled nastily to him as she passed him, although she didn’t get too far as his arm latched onto hers.

“Wait,” He called in an almost-legible voice “Lady Amora.”

“I should apologise.” His face suddenly sobered, but he was still staggering “about before.”

“We don’t need to have this conversation.” She carefully separated them, standing back from him as he collected his thoughts.

“No, but - “ he sighed “I shouldn’t have spoken of you in such a...false manner.”

“How is it that you speak more fluently drunk than sober?” She feigned a surprised look “And no, you shouldn’t have.”

“I truly do apologise. Sif berated me for it, for a while actually.” He slowly took her hand “she was mainly upset about the, well, exaggeration. I think she likes you.”

“Even so, I won’t be inviting her into my bed anytime soon.” She joked as he blinked at her, then went back to lifting her hand to his mouth.  
Thor’s smile was saturated, not in drink, in genuine. Then that little part of her heart thumped, and it wasn’t her rising feelings, but the ache she once had for him. The pitter-patter of excitement rolling inside of her as she’d beautified herself for the date they once promised each other. It was that supposedly reasoned her answer.

“Would you like a drink, Amora?”

And everything inside of her told her no, her head screamed at her to go and meet Loki because she knew, without looking at a clock, that she was rather late.

But then a little revenge tasted better than rationality “Of course.”

* * *

The first time she kissed Thor her insides reeled. They told her no matter how much she liked him, how attractive she thought he was, her body rejected him like a disgusting spoon of medicine. The second time she kissed Thor in the quiet of the common room, her form fell against him, she slowly softened and relaxed all her edges at his touch.

Thor radiated a certain warmness that pulled everyone around into a trance, their feet waltzing towards him like hypnotised dancers. Unlike the previous encounter, he was steady in his movements, pausing before allowing his hands to trace her curves waiting for an encouraging look.  
The Royal quarters were situated on an upper floor in the palace, balconies bordering the rooms that screamed golden glory. Amora had travelled to them before, only to Loki’s room obviously much to Karnilla’s dislike. The guards recognised her as she sheepishly dandered towards him room, Amora believed there to be a questioning look in their eyes even though they remained absolutely motionless day and night. Maybe it was the ale.

Instead of the guard opening the door, Thor pushed it forward and gently pushed her through, trying to be as discreet as possible considering his sleeping brother/her current best friend was a couple of yards away. But she didn’t care about him, not right now. He was preoccupied with pretty little Sigyn, probably his new apprentice by the end of the week...not that he had enough skill to teach her. When Thor’s hands reached for the back of her dress a second time, she didn’t lash out, she helped him as he wrestled with the corset strings. It felt good to be appreciated, adored even...in a place where many despised her.

Thor was pressing tender kisses to her collarbones as she struggled to remove his tunic “You ought to help me.” His laugh was warm vibrations against her skin, he pulled back to help her undress him. Amora tried to leash her excitement, but Thor was the God of gods, his body matched the beauty of his face, she felt victimised by simply staring at it.

“You are beautiful, Amora.” Thor dragged his hands along her, sliding his fingers between the ripples in her silk dress. Then the pace quickened, matching her racing heart as he pushed her onto her back after tossing her dress aside. The pleasurable kisses he pressed onto her was a new found comfort she hadn’t experienced. The feeling was euphoric, and it was consistently ignited between them as they rolled against each other. Thoughts erased and minds entwined, Amora believed it to be a rather good idea.

Perhaps she wasn’t so brash, maybe Karnilla just exaggerated what she saw. Thor was the golden catch of the Realm, and it felt like a victory. She liked him, so she got him. In the end, no matter how wayward their journey had been, perhaps she had focused on the wrong prince for too long.

* * *

Amora awoke tangled in Thor’s embrace. As noted, she’d spent evenings before on the other side of the corridor, laughing with Loki as she watched maidens dot in and out of Thor’s chambers. They usually always left after an hour or so, rarely any of them making it until morning.  
Maybe Thor knew she knew this information, and if that was the reason he held her as they slept, kissed her when she woke and continued the sweetness until the moment was fully over.

Although, even within Thor’s undiscovered sweetness, she felt sick. Not that she wanted to undo it, but she knew it couldn’t be undone. She wavered as he spoke about his daily plans, her smile faltered as he left the bed but quickly returned as he handed her the clothes he’d so quickly gotten off.

Thor had been straightforward and coherent (even if he was a little drunk) for the past couple of hours. Supposedly he had been from the start, except when he lied to his mates, although he did apologise for that. Amora nibbled at her lip as she wracked her brain, weighing up whether it was right or wrong - the only ‘wrong’ part she could source was Loki. Not that Sigyn was a factor in sleeping with Thor, but it was almost as if Loki had replaced Amora. Bedding the first prince of Asgard wasn’t revenge, but as the day went on, it felt good to carry it.

* * *

A few days had passed and Amora had worked up the courage to return to the library and fetch the book she’d planned to look for. Not that she was avoiding it because of a certain duo but she rarely visited the palace recently, spending a lot of time with Karnilla.

Although, in a hideous twist of fate, as Amora entered the grand library, Sigyn and Loki were leaving. _Gods, did they do anything besides read?_ How boring. It only took a mere second for Sigyn to comprehend as she called Amora’s name. Well, Amora had aggressively passed them even though it was oh-so obvious she’d seen them.  
Then she heard that same shuffle and retracing of steps, Loki turned on his heel to call her, following her. Sigyn waited like a child at the doors, face scowling as soon as Loki turned his back.  
Actually, Amora was getting pretty fed up of hearing her name coming out of multiple people’s mouths, as if they all had an issue with her. She turned round to face the familiarity that had been lost to her for a while “Loki.”

Amora missed his face. Even now, looking up at him with her concealed features, he gave a half-hearted smile as his eyes revisited her body before his words tumbled messily out of his mouth.

“The other day - you didn’t - actually, never mind.” It was clear what he was referring to her, she ditched Loki for his brother (he didn’t know this explicit part of course) “Look, I want to apologise. I’ve been...neglecting you lately, and I think it’s because I want to,” he lowered his tone even though Sigyn was too far away to hear “avoid coming to blows with my father. You know that he doesn’t enjoy your presence - which is not why I’m not spending so much time with you...it’s just, I’m trying to please him by courting Sigyn as effectively as I can. And if I do, then he’ll take his eye off me and I can return to - “ he took her hand “ - playing terrible tricks on hapless souls with you.”

Amora could curse him. Physically. Verbally. Somehow. Why couldn’t he just live up to his namesake and lie, or hide the truth. He had naturally been honest with her from the start, and had struck up the courage to air his true feelings about their complex situation. Amora stared at him, slightly open-mouthed.

“...you’re not neglecting me…”

“I am. I have, I mean - I’m going to change that.” He brushed his fingers along the back of her hand which ignited just the tiniest fire in her heart “You’re the only person around me that doesn’t have to be around me. And I do care very much about you, as sappy as that sounds...you know that right?”

_I slept with your brother._

The plan circling her brain was to start a new life and surround herself with horrid people that wouldn’t say such nice things. Amora had been doppelgängering as a statue while he spoke, composing her features effortlessly even though she wanted to practically leap into his arms.

“Yes, uh, of course.” She nodded as he took her other hand as well, a fresh relief on his face.  
“Starting tomorrow, I shall be compensating for all the time we’ve missed. We can go somewhere outside this stuffy palace, I promise it’ll be more fun than a library or mocking Thor from afar.”

Thor. _Shit._ Amora had to scream at herself to nod or even reply as she remained motionless for too long after he suggested they rekindle their friendship. Curse Loki and his bad-timing, Amora didn’t even have a moment to relish her uncertain revenge, she didn’t even know what it was…

“That sounds... _great._ ”

* * *

The next few weeks were filled with picturesque moments between Loki and Amora as they mended their bond. Loki refused to admit that it was broken, just noting it needed some nursing. Amora would have agreed with him, but inside she felt she had already broken it. Permanently.  
It hadn’t come up, the situation. It had been rather bliss actually. Thor pretended it didn’t happen - the opposite to his intention before. Although, she wouldn’t fault him as it was partially to do with her dragging him into a cupboard (Thor believing it was round two, _oh how wrong he was_ ) to potentially blackmail him. Amora swore him to secrecy and he couldn’t have been more obliging, something told her it was because he knew how Loki would feel if he knew. Amora wasn’t sure herself, because he didn’t know. For certain.

Not that their time together was timetabled, but Loki had varied it so that his time with Sigyn was only when Amora was busy with Karnilla. Amora had the rest of his time if she liked. This worked almost too perfectly for Amora as it screwed with both Odin and Sigyn, their faces were a picture every time they noticed Amora throwing her head back in laughter dramatically or Loki pulling her in for a side-hug that Amora would emphasise by running her hands up his back.

So, Amora decided to forget about Thor. The incident, whatever it was. It wasn’t going to come up, she actually had trust in Thor - he hadn’t even told Sif. The more time she spent with Loki, which was increasing by the day - and not just because of Loki’s verbal commitment to her - and seemed to have an effect on both of them. Loki focused on her more, his eyes drew longer on her and sometimes she would catch him and not call him out. Amora felt all those dampened feelings that were indescribable float back up inside her chest, she wouldn’t focus too heavily on them. But they were there.

* * *

Any ravine under Asgard's suns would gleam in the evening, the water emanated colours of pastels, the bed of sand underneath appearing light and white. It falsely advertised the water as appealing, but they both knew it was probably horrendously cold.

The breeze kept blowing her hair into her face, obstructing Loki's view of her rare smiles. They shed their clothes in a challenge of who could, and would, jump into the water first. Amora had sprinted after stripping to her undergarments, and thrown herself into the river. Loki had paused mid-strip to unintentionally gaze at her. She'd dressed in tight gowns for parties and worn shorter outfits for sparring when she was forced to do so - it was a one-time affair and actually a bet. Her voice screaming with laughter pulled him from his thoughts and he suddenly felt embarrassed that he was looking at her in a way that friends usually didn't.

Catching up to her, she threw a hand out towards him when he joined her in the water. It was just to steady herself, although his heart once again began it’s usual dance whenever she touched him. It had been more apparent recently. With butterflies roaming his stomach and hand clasped with Amora's, they ventured further down the stream as she boastfully announced herself as the winner. The water level rose as they continued, it reached Loki's waist so it was almost to Amora's shoulders, her long locks turning dark as they soaked up the water, the top of her head remaining a golden halo. The sun beamed down on just her, it seemed. It radiated her already beautiful features, and when the sun met her eyes, it transformed her eyes from a gorgeous blue to enchanting glassy orbs. He felt he stood in the shadow of a beautiful princess, the ones storytellers would recite about.

"You shouldn't go any further if you can't swim." Loki said with a slight smirk, watching her freeze in front of him as her hand loosened from his. The entire time they'd be travelling through the stream, Amora could've definitely paddled her way through but instead took wide steps in order to get ahead.

"What?" She retorted, throwing a cross look at him "I can swim."

"Sure."

"I can."

" _Of course_ ,"

"Loki, don't be a - "

"I wouldn't want you to submerge and fatally drown."

Two raised brows wiggled at her as she breathed hastily, twirling her fingers delicately, resulting in a build-up of greenish water rising and catapulting itself at Loki. Her and Loki's childhoods were incomparable, she hadn't an ordinary thing about her, even the magic in her veins was corrupt. She never dwelled on it, but simple tasks like swimming and horse-riding hadn't exactly been timetabled for her as a child.

Saturated, Loki appeared next to her. It was obvious he was crouching as they matched in height, his thin open shirt he'd left on now sticking to his skin. The part of the river they floated in seemed isolated now, and colder. The arrival of a wispy breeze made Amora draw her shoulders in, as she scoffed at Loki who simply paddled round her "I can swim."

He cast a doubtful glance over her face, and then in one sudden motion pulled her towards him, gently and carefully gripping her as he hoisted her to his side, and she allowed him while drawing a concentrated and conceited look upon her face.

"Do you think Karnilla will teach you?" He asked, that ravenous smirk not faltering with breath now inches from her face as she shifted to make herself comfortable. The peach bustier she wore pressed against his soaked shirt. Playfully, she smacked his shoulder which finally quietened his jibes.

"No," she leaned into his face, pausing at his lips with a grin "I suppose I could ask Odin..." and with her comment erasing the cocky arrangement of his features, she drew out an exaggerated sigh as she lulled her head back dramatically.

Erupting into laughter, the two continued to wade through the gentle current. Loki felt Amora stiffen as he carried her through the water to a deeper, central part of the river where she couldn't latch on to overhanging plants on the bank. Relaxing into his side, she allowed him to hold most of her weight. Supposing, they were comfortable enough to penetrate each other's built-up guards. Their personal shields slowly crumbling when the other was near. Part of Amora wanted to keep some walls up, they hadn't all collapsed at once for one particular person and she was sure Loki wouldn't be the first.

Studying his side angle, she realised they had never been so physically close; they usually leaned into each for whispers or comments out of earshot of the hapless victim they were about. Amora was the first to fall asleep on his shoulder usually when they were sitting late practising casts. Every touch they accustomed had been practised and gentle, the little space between their faces now was different. Unusual and unplanned. His skin wasn't as pale as once thought, a light tint beckoning his features; the rise of the cheekbone following the relaxed arch of his brow, a hat for an emerald eye that didn't focus on her. For once.

Wet hairs curtained his face and she leaned in close, pushing them back to his temples and with her unexpected, warm touch he suddenly turned his head to meet her in a manner that resembled flinching. Their wet lips brushed, just briefly, and he released his grip on her ever-so-slightly in fear she would actually feel his heart thumping violently in his chest.

Karnilla's words invaded her mind, he is yours now but he belongs to Lady Sigyn...they circulated until she distracted herself by letting her fingers travel to the back of his neck, and unconsciously start playing with the soaked ends of his dark hair.

"Will you always be my friend, Loki."

It wasn't a question. It was mere weakness pouring out of her. The reassurance wasn't needed and unnecessary, it would give him all the more reason to make passive jeers towards her. The idea of their bond breaking by the invasion of rules, marriage and royal affairs disheartened her. She hadn’t even thought of the Thor situation, and the impact it may have. Well, she had a rough idea. They got away with such a friendship due to their similar interests, but the discussion of spells could only last so long before other topics were ventured.

"Or would you rather be with your Lady Sigyn." And the seriousness that developed on his face startled her, for a brief moment she thought he would desert her. His trademark grin appeared as he suddenly released his hold on her, dropping her so that she quickly submerged with a splash.  
In the depth of the water, she kicked at his legs as her arms rotated viciously.

He remained motionless against the gentle current, with a long-fingered hand reaching down to grasp at her in a shoddy rescue attempt. Beads of water raced from the top of head to her shoulders as he pulled her up, and not just up to the surface. Her body limped at the sudden courage of Loki to wrap his hands around her arms and haul her towards him, their mouths met and at first all she could taste was salty streams of water, but then it was quickly gone as they parted.

The word fleeting tattooed into her brain, the word had never meant so much. Their eyes were locked in the pause, for the first time for the usually bold, presumptuous pair stripped their expressions like their clothes.

Amora’s eyes were wild, and widened. She pulled soaked hair out of her face and barely comprehended her own emotions before taking a look at Loki.

Instantaneously, Amora breathed into his mouth, parting her lips as she felt hands squeeze her sides. The kiss tasted like heaven and she didn’t want to eat anything else. With an attempt of steadying them both, her own two hands travelled to touch his pinked cheeks, fingers lingering close to his eyes. Loki lost balance with the passion of their sudden embrace, and the two submerged under the water, a thud clarifying that they'd gone down sharply. A kiss never truly colourised her in the way that this did. Yet, it was just a kiss. Only a kiss.

* * *

Amora hadn’t actually danced with Loki at any of the feasts or celebrations. Due to recent suspicion from Karnilla (probably directed from Odin, she told herself Karnilla was not that interested in her personal life) she maintained her distance during the dances and dull smalltalk that was ever so apparent at Asgardian feasts. It was, sort-of, an uncommunicated vow between herself and Odin (and Karnilla) that she would keep her claws away from his precious son so he could publicly toy with the Vanaheim specimen brought for him.  
While her eyes passed over each individual draped in shades of gold, Amora caught Frigga gliding towards her. Amora suspected she wanted to appear wholesome and loving, an all-round caring being. When she approached her, Frigga made a slight remark that Amora looked like an unhappy golden ornament seated grumpily in the corner.

“How are you, Amora?” Frigga gently rested her hand on Amora’s leg as she sat opposite her.

“I am well, thank you, your majesty.” Amora usually breezed through effortless conversation with Frigga, she was an interesting woman and the chat flowed greatly unlike when she had to suffer opposite Odin - which was not all too often. Her shoulders continued to recede into the chair as Frigga dismissed her “Nonsense, child.”

Did Frigga know? Did she know about either, or both situations regarding her sons and their...affiliation with Amora?

“Perhaps a dance before bed?” Frigga nodded towards a random group of men, the only huddle that wasn't outrageously bladdered. Frigga was just...nice, damnit.

Amora’s eyes flashed at Frigga then she chuckled “I don’t dance, your majesty.”

“You’ll share a dance with myself, won’t you?” Frigga squeezed her leg, a much-too-perfect smile apprehending her features.

Amora knew she wouldn’t ascend to the dungeons for rejecting a royal offer to dance, but she hadn’t it in her heart to reject the Queen. After all, Frigga was warm and nurturing, Karnilla would appreciate any of that physically passing to Amora through contact.

Amora usually avoided the feasts unless Loki persuaded her (or Karnilla, but she more or less wormed her way out of them when she asked) and on the first or second occasion he had basically pleaded for her company, he’d suggested she’d work on the the technical side of Asgardian parties.

“What are you assuming, that I’m inept?” She crossed her arms, raising a curt brow at him as he scoffed “Surely Karnilla hasn’t been sneaking in a few two-step lessons?”

“Is the dancing necessary?”

“ _Absolutely_ ,” he smirked as he watched the careful contortion of her face, nervousness masked by excessive abruptness “apparently if one does not partake in the activities, they’ll be sent to the dungeons!”

“You really are a little brat, aren’t you?”

“Come, it is quite simple.”

As if on command, her arms dropped and she forced her protesting body towards him with outstretched arms.

“Perhaps I should have a proper dance teacher, no?” Drawing a stupid face as she neared him, he laughed in return as he grabbed both arms.

“Strange that you say that,” he placed one of her hands on his shoulder and clasped the other tightly “I was thinking just the same about sorcery, this girl that’s been teaching me, she’s not very good.”

Amora threw her most performative chastising look at him as she loosened her clasped hand to swat him on the chest. She almost missed the feeling of his hand chasing round her waist as she gazed up at him, having never been so close to him she realised she would have to look up to meet his eyes.

“Don’t be mean,” she spoke quietly now that there was nothing but the dust of the library between them “or I’ll dismiss you.”

Then she took his hand again.

Frigga had led Amora to the centre of the room, hand firmly grasped with Amora’s as guests parted to make more than enough room for their Queen. Sigyn was drawn away from the girl she was conversing with, her pink-cheeked face darting to catch a view.

Frigga was, in every realm, a more experienced and sophisticated dancer, however she seemed to relax and fool around with Amora. With feeling slightly uncomfortable with multiple pairs of eyes on her, she soon gave into the foolish tendencies of the Queen. While most couldn’t believe it, Frigga grabbed Amora’s arms and swung her round, the dress chasing her as she went. The Queen only had eyes for her, and Amora felt accepted. Appreciated. Karnilla wouldn’t be caught acting in such a way, even though she was under Frigga. Amora was wrapped around Frigga as she pulled her in, her face beaming.

“Your majesty, I truly don’t want to disgrace you in front of all these guests.” Amora attempted to remain courteous but chuckled her way through her comment.

“If anything,” Frigga pulled Amora towards her to spin her again “you are making me look more youthful, which I thank you for!”

Other prestigious guests like high-tier councilmen had grasped their wives and led them to the floor for a dance, following their Queen. Amora craned her neck to check where Sigyn’s invasive eye had drifted, she saw her standing between her pretty peers which included Sif, who was without her partner (Thor was across the floor, head in a goblet) but Sigyn was also without Loki.

“Ah, here’s my relief.” Frigga released her grip on Amora as she turned back from spying on Sigyn.  
Amora didn’t hear what Frigga said to Loki, but he looked back at her like he wasn’t listening. His eyes remained on Amora who was staring at the two of them slightly alarmed. They hadn’t truly spoken since the day spent down at the ravine. It seemed neither of them wanted to speak about it, or what comes after. Sigyn was still around, still engaged to Loki. It couldn’t just go away.

Frigga passed Amora’s hand to Loki who took it tentatively, as if she was going to snatch onto him and scratch. Amora didn’t check for Sigyn’s longing gaze. She kept her gaze trained on Loki who didn’t say anything.

If they were clear in understanding, they were mixed-up in a situation that was less difficult on the surface and would be in-fact more difficult undiscussed, especially if it continued. Amora didn’t want to speak of things, she just felt right about kissing him. It wasn’t to provoke him or in some way annoy Sigyn. She didn’t even want Sigyn to find out.

“Loki,”

The music stopped, the band were tuning up to play a different song. There were less couples on the floor and the two of them had stopped dancing, instead remaining close to the other. Amora could feel the warmth of his body as he turned to greet Sigyn.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt - would you be interested in showing me those books you spoke of?”

Books. _How many more fucking books could there be?_ Amora didn’t know whether she looked how she felt, the surge of her brow heightening indicated her irritation outwardly towards Sigyn. She was genuinely excited for what Loki was going to reply. Loki struggled to pull his eyes from Amora so instead she looked at Sigyn as well, as if they would both answer for him.

“Yes, I’ll - “ he paused “I’m going to say goodnight to Amora, then I’ll be happy to show you those volumes you’re interested in.” He said curtly and politely to Sigyn who was all too polite to say anything questioning back. Even if she did question his good nature, her face left no trace of it.

“Goodnight, Amora.” Sigyn took Amora’s hand and clasped her two tawny ones over it “I hope we can get to know each other a little more.”

God, what a bitch. Amora nodded in return after pulling back her hand, reuniting it discreetly with Loki’s after they disappeared from sight. They usually linked arms, yet there was nothing uncomfortable about hand-holding however it felt different to how it usually would. The corridors were lit for the evening celebrations, a light hue of gold dancing down the long, continuous hall.

They had turned into a discreet corridor, on the way to Amora’s chambers. There wasn’t an ounce of guilt in her for stealing away Loki and leaving Sigyn begrudgingly with Frigga and the handmaidens. Amora sassily turned to him with a grin, affixing a mocking tone to her words.

“ _You’ll show her some volumes_ \- “

She groaned sharply as her back connected with the wall, she was unsure whether the rush to her head and heart was syncopated. In spite of being a corridor away from the feast and the ever-lovely Sigyn, Loki pushed Amora against the wall and interrupted her quip with a passionate kiss.  
Of course, this was different to the kiss in the secluded waters which was more impulsive than intimate. His hands found her waist after loosening from her hand, and while she wanted to maintain her usual vampy flirtatiousness, she was floored for a moment until she let her arms wrap around him and pull him closer.

Then the kiss deepened and Amora was almost sure a break was coming, and as she leaned out from the wall to speak but instead Loki pressed one hand to the back of her head and pulled her in greatly.

“I think maybe a little privacy wouldn’t hurt,” she whispered against his lips, bringing one hand up to run along his arm, feeling muscle she hadn’t felt before.

“My dearest apologies, dear ‘mora.” He said with a rasp in his voice that was new to her, she became almost excited at his low tone “yet you aren’t usually the queen of discretion yourself.”

“No, I’m not - “ she kissed him “ - but your soon-to-be wife is not so far.”

“I wish she weren’t,” he relaxed against her, Amora felt his hips against hers and the softening of his arms drop to her waist “I truly wish she weren’t.”

Amora smiled, if there was a confirmation of his feelings for Sigyn, and how he truly felt about her. That was it.

“I don’t think we can do this,” she brushed his hair from his face to closely look at him “The odds are forever weighted against me and your father - “

“ - has a distaste to you? I know.” He sighed “...but it’s not being unfaithful...I - “

Amora brought her fingers up to press onto his lips as if to physically stop him from speaking “And then what happens? I’ll be your bit on the side that Sigyn - “ she lowered her voice after vaguely hearing footsteps that ceased quickly “ - does or does not know about?”

“But - _but I like you_.”

In the silence of just echoing footsteps and their paced breathing, Amora could’ve sworn she heard her heart crack perfectly in two. There was a sinking feeling inside of her as she scanned Loki’s features, he was just sad. His unblinking eyes were clouded and staring into hers as if one glance away, she would disappear.

“That's fairly obvious,” a grin appeared as she spoke “you did just throw me against a wall to kiss me.” she watched as his features lightened, and he softly laughed before pulling her into a hug, resting into her neck.

“Do you like me?” He asked against the softness of her neck while Amora petted his hair that was tickling her face.

“Are you going to force me to say it?”

“I’m pretty sure I could,” his laugh against her neck was soothing and exciting, she dropped her arms to his waist and squeezed “I do like you, Loki.”

She wasn’t lying. His head popped up from where it was hiding in the crook of her neck “There it is.”  
Amora did ponder about the effects of continuing whatever they had. She hadn’t exerted her feelings yet, and she was unsure if she was ever going to. Though deep down inside, she selfishly wanted him for herself, and if Sigyn got to pounce about with him during the day, Amora could find some time for her and Loki to have their own moments.

“I suppose we’ll just have to be more inconspicuous, trickster.”

He pulled away from her, an incredulous look forming on his face “You mean - “

“I’m not overly pleased about this - “ she waved her hand between the two of them “ - occurring when you basically engaged...and I don’t want to be a harlot - “

“You’re not - “

She interrupted his interruption “ - but I don’t want to not kiss you, I guess.”

“You do like me.” Amora had rarely witnessed a sincere smile on Loki, it was always a grin or smirk after a trick gone right - or wrong. His smiles were rare and she told herself they were saved for her. Frigga could have some, and possibly Thor. But she would steal every one meant for Sigyn.

“I guess we’ll have to deal with everything as it comes, but - “ she placed her hand on his chin, bringing him close “ - inconspicuous. This is our secret.”

“ _Our_ secret.” He closed the gap between them by pressing his lips to hers, a smile forming.

Maybe it was the heat of the moment, or the romantic, heated moment itself. Though Amora wasn’t against it, she was honest with him and wanted it to be secretive, and special. However there would be plenty of people in a line who would be against it.

* * *

There were few occasions Amora truly felt sorry for herself. She felt sorry for herself everyday, but not outwardly and not inwardly. She knew there was attached hassle to being an Enchantress, whether the name was said insultingly or not. The situation of her whoring herself out to both Princes didn’t pinch her at first like it did at night, when she was alone. Sif and her fell apart, not that they ever fell together, but they rarely spoke anymore even if it was trading quips. She simply avoided her in fear of Thor rising in conversation. While she was usually alone in her chambers at night, she allowed herself to sometimes shed a tear in the shower so she could pretend it was another drizzle of water running down her cheek. Curling into her bed under silky layers and books spread around her like she was planning a cult-like sacrifice (or like she had committed robbery from the library) she pitied herself.

There was a part of her that would be angry, confused. Sif and Sigyn were women similar to her, while Sif dropped the sorcery part and Sigyn gained it (well she’d like to) Amora couldn’t understand while she was wicked and vain, as the other two (not to be admitted aloud) donned the same traits. Fierce, intelligent (Sif) and proud. There was something different in the way she held herself than Sigyn and Sif did that made her corruptible.

Amora brought this to Loki’s attention, she didn’t pick the time well because they were hidden in one of the cupboards Karnilla packed with material relating to sorcery. Books and rolled scrolls kept prodding Amora in the back as she was going on and on about Sigyn, she grew tired at herself for it but couldn’t stop.

“She’s so invasive - “ then she leant back into the kiss “ - I mean, of all the women - “ she basically was talking against his mouth “ - why this one? She is just incompetent - “ Loki had taken this opportunity to pull her towards him as she continually reeled back to bitch.

“Just ignore her.” He answered after holding his grasp on, reclining slightly to catch her expression. Ah, pissed.

“I just wish she wasn’t here.”

Then he kissed her again, trying to console. He also didn’t have any answers for her. He didn’t hate Sigyn, but the timing of the betrothal wasn’t good and possibly preconceived by his father to distract him. Amora’s hands came to his face as she finally quietened, her warm touch satisfying and soft.

“She won’t be,” he relaxed against her “she’s going home for a while and - “ his eyes lit up in excitement which thus excited Amora.

“ _And?_ ” She preened, her grip tightening on his face.

“And...I was meant to go with her, but you’ll be happy to find - ” He pressed a kiss to her lips and paused “ - I talked myself out of it.”

“Really? How?” She asked inches from his face.  
“Well, I just recited some rubbish about how I wanted to get to know her over time and that perhaps Thor should join me -“ he carefully concentrated on her expression “- in the far, far future, so that her family will know ours and not just myself.”

Amora grinned. She liked this version of him. Ever conspiring, and being secretive - except to her. She hummed, tracing his face with her fingers, running them up and down his sharp lines.

“I’m impressed.” She purred, snaking her hands around his neck.

“I would like to think so,” his grin drew wider as he pressed his lips to hers, along with his hips.

“So when is she leaving?” Amora shifted against the shelf to make herself more comfortable as he started kissing down her neck. In the blissful moment, she closed her eyes and forgot to listen to his mumbled answer as he continued towards her collarbone, pulling gently on her shirt. She did admit, not to him, that he had confidence. They traded dominance easily but it took little effort to go from friends to more.

“She’s left.” A book rocketed off one of the higher shelves, connecting with Loki’s head, due to their increased passion “Why are we in here again?” He looked up to the shelf, scowling.

“I don’t want a repeat of last time.” She raised a brow at him, reminding him of their last passionate encounter. It was just a light kiss, rather, but possibly not too tame for someone like Sif who had absolutely no idea (like everyone else) that Amora and Loki’s friendship had, well, transcended.

Amora chased her down the hall, already summoning blackmailing ideas to use against Sif. There had been plenty of times where both Amora and Loki had stumbled upon Sif and Thor (before the whole betrothal thing) but instead, Sif didn’t truly care and Amora only ended up polishing her sword for a week - which she got Loki to do obviously. Amora was sure Sif thought it was a one-off thing, when it had probably been the fifth or sixth moment of passion between them since the ravine.

Amora ran her hands up his shirt and clinged onto the collar, grabbing and pulling him quickly to her. His low laugh and feeling of his hands rubbing lightly on her face made her almost light-headed. There was something new about the touch.  
While she wasn’t the affectionate type, and always received instead of giving. There were spontaneous moments where she burst with all her concealed feelings and efforts, where she had the sudden urge to be affectionate towards him. While he was closing in on her, nose pressed against hers and muttering some kind of sweet nothings. She simply placed her hand on his face and kindly forced him to forget what he was doing, pulling him back for a deeper kiss.

"You know, I'm surprised I hadn’t kissed you sooner." He said after they both released on each other for air.

“I kissed you.” She argued, playfully tugging on the braid tangled in his wild hair.

“I kissed you first,” he protested, pretending to winch as her fingers wrapped around locks of his dark hair.

“That doesn’t count.” She whispered with a smug grin.

“ _Are you counting?_ ”

The heat met her cheeks rather quickly “You should’ve kissed me sooner.”

“What, so that you’d be betrothed to me instead?” He cocked his head to the side, allowing her hand to rest against his head. She gave a sad smile as she looked away, they hadn’t truly discussed the ins-and-outs of both Sigyn and Loki’s relationship nor the one she had herself with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I know that’s not how it works, I know that’s not the reason Thor and Sif are together.” She sighed “you’d hate being married to me.”

“ _Lie._ ”

She darted her head up, brows furrowed in confusion.

“That’s a lie,” he said softly “I wouldn’t hate it.”

“You wouldn’t like it.” She said, staring at him.

“Rather you than her.” He broke into a wolfish grin before pulling her back into a kiss in their secretive hiding spot.

* * *

The situation with Thor was eating her up alive. Amora hadn’t felt such guilt before, but everytime Loki led her to his chambers, she recalled the time where Thor had drunkenly dandered with her to his room. Everytime she glanced at his door she was brought back to the moment. While she wore vengeance for some time, it had worn off the day Loki threw her into the water. It slipped from her quickly, replaced by a confusing feeling she hadn’t felt before.

It was cruel of life to give her Loki (sort-of), remove the disastrous equation that was Sigyn (well, partly) and then remain the guilt on her shoulders. She never felt bad about cursing others, ridiculing them by turning their sandals into slugs or hair and into beetles.

Amora had never been one for honesty, but hiding something so forcefully was different to simply evading the truth. It wasn’t fresh, it happened months before. The time she spent with Loki cultivating a bond no one could intercept, no one could destroy...she had been regretting Thor, screaming into her pillow about it. Forever frustrated that she couldn’t undone it.

“Did you know Karnilla and my father are taking a trip to Alfheim this weekend?” Loki’s voice had distracted her from her spiralling thoughts.

“Uh, yes, she told me the other day. It’s something about collecting documents or - “ she pulled a face as she positioned herself on his lap “ - I didn’t really listen.”

“Ah,” His arms sat comfortably around her as she leaned back on him “Well, you’ll be delighted to know that I have to see Sigyn tomorrow...but then you’ll have me all weekend.”

“Hmm,” Amora purred “perhaps we could spend time in my chambers given Karnilla’s absence.”

“Better than sneaking you in here, especially with Thor across the hall.” Loki grinned, pulling her in for a brief kiss. Amora winched at the mention of Thor, admittedly the situation bothered her but it had become so intense that it prevented her from continuing her relationship with Loki.

As in, _intimately._

“I believe some privacy outside of this palace may be beneficial.” He didn’t notice her stifled breathing, only squeezed her slightly as he uttered sweet nothings.

There was a rush winding through her, a guilt rising as her fingers trembled. She stared directly ahead to hide her face from him as he continued lazily whispering compliments against her.

“Loki,” she began, hiding the quiver in her voice.  
She stepped onto the floor, pushing herself off of him.

There was a panic across his face as she shifted restlessly, fingers winding through each other as her breath trembled. Every night she dreamt of undoing the night with Thor, he’d been so good at hiding it. She’d carried the guilt with her everyday, but it was meant to go away.

Then instead of saying anything, instead of agreeing to stay with him. Instead of just nodding.

“I slept with Thor.” A slow-burning tear slid down her cheek.

There was nothing that could prepare her for his reaction, the slow disconnection of his body as his face broke. Eyes wide in shock like it was just a joke, then suddenly meeting the floor because the truth had never sounded like such a lie. Hands didn’t meet hers like they usually did, he physically turned away from her. Amora gulped as tears threatened to flood, but she refused herself the pity, for once.

“Loki, I’m so - “ she swallowed quickly as she stepped towards him, with the words that rarely patterned her lips “ _I’m so sorry._ ”

In a strangeness she never predicted, a heaviness landed on her even after the relief of admitting the information she’d been concealing for so long. A weight attached to her shoulders, hauling her down into the ground as she watched his freeze, still refusing to face her. She knew he would be upset, deranged - but struggling to even glance at her?

“Don’t follow me.”

The weight winded her as she dropped to her knees. Loki had already vanished from his chambers, the quickness of his presence disappearing forced her to weep. At least she could cry alone.

* * *

Sigyn’s legs were covered in peculiar lines, weird stripes of tattoos that ran around her calves. Amora only noticed when she saw Sigyn, of all people, dressed in battle armour, fighting opposite Sif. Loki was seated on the wall closest to Sigyn, ready to step in and adjust her shield or politely demonstrate how to hold her sword. Sif was barely sweating, only swinging her own sword in one hand as she encouraged the Vanaheim princess.

The tattoo was a tradition in her land, Amora read it in a book she never finished. All the royals in Vanaheim had them engraved on their bodies. Sigyn’s blonde hair was wrapped in a braid, all piled on top of her head like some odd bird's nest.

Seeing Sif being ever-so friendly towards Sigyn, the girl she would happily bitch about before set off a twang in Amora’s chest. She never accounted for what Sif and her had, but it made her feel sick watching them play like sisters with over excessive laughter! _Sigyn couldn’t even fight!_

“Perhaps I better stick to the books!” That graceful laugh of hers laced the air, Sigyn set her sword down as Sif gave a sympathetic look, and it didn’t even look forced.

“Oh, it just takes years of practice!” Amora wondered whether Sif meant to say that as cocky as she did, but Sigyn simply nodded and quickly clocked Loki.

Amora was only travelling through, pausing as she watched the three of them. This was the moment she was meant to force herself ahead, carry on with the route. Her eyes remained locked on Sigyn as she unravelled her hair, sunshine locks falling over her shoulders as she smiled giddily at Loki.

“Do you think you’ll ever draw swords with me?”

“Oh no,” Loki replied, running a hand through his hair (Amora hoped it was an unconscious act as he knew he looked rather cute doing it) “I wouldn’t want to be terribly embarrassed when you beat me.”

The smile dropped from Amora’s face when she realised he wasn’t defying her, he was flirting with her! Wasn’t it days ago that he explained to her that he and Thor didn’t have to show romantic interest, they were only engaged not star-crossed lovers!

He must’ve known she was there, lurking in the shadows where she once plucked him from. Loki knew her well enough, could pick up her scent even if he didn’t actively search her out. Yet, he made no acknowledgement of her, she was quite hidden and even though he would obviously pretend not to notice her, his body didn’t shuffle or tense like it did when he knew she was near.

Amora scowled all the way back to her room.

* * *

Karnilla had given Amora a brisk talking-to before she left, the speech consisted of _absolutely no_ visitors, although Amora didn’t have to pretend to agree as Loki had avoided her since they last saw each other in his chambers. It wasn’t the first time Karnilla had gone away, but she deemed it necessary to outline boundaries to Amora.

Although every sensible rule Karnilla made left Amora’s mind that evening when Loki appeared outside her door, hands stationed at his sides as he asked to enter her room.

Amora let him past, she wanted to hear what he had to say. Although, he’d never raised his voice at her - she wasn’t sure he had the gal. Yet, even if he did now she was pretty confident she wouldn’t curse him, she deserved it.

Loki appeared a little sleep-deprived, which hurt Amora all the more. There was no doting Sigyn at his side to openly flirt with. Amora shuffled restlessly on the balls of her feet, she wanted to come across as unfazed, but it was near next to hopeless.

She waited patiently for him to speak, standing further from him she usually would. Loki drew in a breath as if he was about to speak, but then Amora noticed his eyes burned almost desirably.

Tired of the silent nonsense, Amora opened her mouth to speak but was suddenly drowned out by Loki’s lips on hers. She wanted to protest, but then she didn’t. He forced her against the wall, a pain so unnoticeable in her back that she immediately forgot about it as he kissed her. As her chest rose and fell rapidly, it felt like thunder rolling without the lightning strikes, Amora quickly took in the moment. Allowing her hands to race up his body and analyse every curve and edge of his face with her fingers, she breathed out sharply, releasing all that tension hidden under every layer of clothing.

Loki seemed to have the same idea, pulling and tugging at her dress, greeting her bare skin with kisses as her dress fell to the floor. They briefly stopped, pausing while gasping for air. Amora grinned at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes with her cheeks burning and eyes wide with excitement.

Although, Loki soon glanced at her features as he raised her chin, smiling proudly as he sized-up her with his eyes before advancing towards her, unhurriedly pressing their bodies together. Every tender movement made Amora’s heart flutter, and then her eyes too as he nibbled down her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses on her collarbone.

There was no speaking, no recycled thoughts or guilty speech emerging. The only noises made were ones of passion, exhaled moans and soft trembles. Even that managed to cater to her every fantasy, the hot breathless whispers in her ear were foreign exchanges she hadn’t experienced with anyone else before. The silk on Amora’s bed didn’t match the finery of Loki’s, the bed itself wasn’t as luxurious as Thor’s, but she realised the materials could’ve lacked more and she wouldn’t care.

She had felt worshipped, not objectively. Amora had forever been objectified and viewed and seen...the same way Loki had been forgettable behind Thor’s presence, or ridiculed and underestimated. They balanced out fulfilling each other, with Amora making sure he knew how much she appreciated him, favoured him. Thor was skilled in bed and knew all the right things to do, but sharing the sheets with Loki introduced her to new passions, the toughness of his normally soft hands, the lowness of his voice when his mouth was close to hers, teasingly, drawing back with some satire comment before consuming her. He explored her in a way the others didn’t - as if his whole reason of being was to be with her, as if another day couldn’t pass unless he strummed and stroked her body until she was absolutely exasperated underneath him.

Amora would truly have to thank Karnilla in some special way, for leaving her alone all weekend.

* * *

With Karnilla’s absence liberating in more ways than one, Amora and Loki had travelled to his chambers the night before Karnilla and Odin’s return. The free opportunity to be alone together in her room was ludicrous to pass up, but Amora felt they had done plenty to appreciate the due isolation.

Amora loved Loki’s room. Obviously it was larger than hers, but with the addition of the balcony where she could sit and have tea with him, or the piles of books he hadn’t tidied away waiting to be read made her feel queasy. In a good way. The butterflies dancing in her stomach kind of queasy. Well, supposing she had taken part in all these activities as simply friends, but there was a reason for her to be here now. The guards’ incredulous stares would not affect her the way they would. The whole place now felt inviting, as opposed to across the hall. It was like she resonated with his room, quirky accessories and high ceilings.

The… _liberation_ had truly ailed every tension they had between them. She noticed Loki was more carefree around her, a little more childish and playful. Relaxed. He would brush his fingertips along her back as they walked, deliberately psyching her up and making her yearn for more.

Running her own fingers along the edge of the bathtub, she inhaled softly as she soaked under the warm bubbles and bath salts. Loki was wandering around his room, sheepishly trying to tidy some of those books away as Amora relaxed in the bath.

It wasn’t serious, they hadn't had any official pre conversations regarding the status or courtship - as Odin would say - of their relationship. Amora respected Loki and she received that respect back, but they were too alike and mindless to truly focus on each other. She envisioned a future ahead of having comfortable moments with him, they already felt united in the other’s presence so there was little work to be done there. Loki was having a great time in unravelling all his layers, everything he wanted to get off his chest. All the thoughts that he couldn’t say to her when they were at an awkward balance, honestly men could be so difficult. One night in bed and they recite stories laced with detailed and emotive chapters, but Amora listened anyway.

“Do you want this?” Loki appeared next to her when she opened her eyes, towering over her waving a red book in his hand.

“What is it?” She leaned forward as he sat on the edge of the bathtub, holding up the book so she could read the title “ _Ancient Spells and Castings_? As if I haven’t read that a thousand times.”

“Ah, you see this is a very special copy - “ he gently tapped it on her head (see: playful) “ - it’s the first book I let you borrow.”

“You are quite the sentimental boy, are you not?” She laughed as she took the book from him “gods, that was years ago.”

“ _Mhmm,_ ” he let his hands wander to her shoulders, rubbing them tenderly as she slowly reclined her head “and you’ve been purposely destroying my life ever since.”

Supposing that was true in his words, she would’ve cursed him, but like the honesty pouring out of him when they were wrapped in an embrace so tight he forgot any second-guessing, any doubt invisible to his mind. He also had become rather remarkable with his satire commentary, which Amora always enjoyed but found it all the more satisfying that he said it without a fear of being hexed.

Amora leaned her head back to meet his gaze, dropping the book onto the floor as she grinned. Allowing herself to lean back into him as he began softly kissing her, grazing his fingers along her collarbone.

“Loki!”

The moment soured as Amora and Loki both jumped, hearing the sudden shrill voice of the one person they’d been avoiding more than Thor: Sigyn. Loki quickly darted from where he sat, turning to Amora with alarm in his eyes as he hurriedly buttoned his shirt.

“ _You’re joking_.” Amora hissed, gripping the sides of the bath as Loki panicked.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days, I wanted to return those volumes.” Her voice called out as her feet neared the bathroom.

“ _Fucking books._ ” Amora whispered to him as he shushed her, they both realised that Sigyn was very likely to walk in on their ‘romantic’ moment even if it was just Amora naked in his bath.

“Amora, just - “ he gestured to the bath water, a crooked half-smile on his face “ - hide?”

“Not a chance in Hel.” she shook her head as they both panicked. A small shred of her would enjoy the picture of Sigyn’s distressed features if she hurried her pace and interrupted their panic. Amora knew it would cause her more grief than anyone so spared a look at Loki, one that mirrored the phrase ‘I’m going to kill you’, she quickly threw herself into the bathtub, breathing in sharply before her face met the water. The noise was muzzled as Loki disappeared from the hazed view, obviously walking towards Sigyn.

Thankfully, whatever they discussed only lasted a bare minute, with Loki shooting his hand in the water to alert Amora that Sigyn had gone. The Vanaheim commodity had only appeared to check on Loki as she hadn’t seen him, _how possessive_. Amora, in the most dignified fashion, choked as she lifted herself up, pouring her head into her hands as she wiped water off her face.

“ _Wow,_ how beautiful you are.” He chuckled as he sat on the edge of the bath again, Amora swatted his arm as she sneered “Shut up.” Loki pretended to wince, placing a hand over his heart delicately while Amora’s features softened, gods he could be annoying. But as his face lightened, natural bitter looks melting to delicate, dewy expressions, she tilted her head with a smile.

“So, are you going to join me or wait for Sigyn and her second stack of books?” Amora winked as she pulled her knees up to her chest, making space for him. Loki only gave a satisfied purr in return as he pulled his shirt over his head, a twist of his fingers alerting Amora that he’d sent a spell her way. Water rising to rinse her face that she was all too slow to counter, he’d obviously been practicing those water spells.

* * *

Karnilla and Odin had returned from their trip without a fleck of suspicion. Amora had tidied her room, not that it was messy, but she’d never shared it before and...well the new-found desire for intimacy had taken its toll. There would be a time when they wouldn’t be so alone, so taking advantage of the lonesome quarters was absolutely unquestionable.

Amora was sprawled out on the bed, lying face first into a pillow. Sleep was the last thing on her mind but she knew she needed some, naturally she struggled to shut her eyes but it was almost overpowering this time. Loki, ever the insomniac, was simply reading and sometimes attempting to make conversation. Amora’s fight to either force herself into a slumber or stay up and converse with Loki as she had done before, was another nightmare. Tossing and turning, she finally gave up on sleeping and rolled over, lying on her side to face Loki.

“Good morning,” he spoke quietly, as it was the middle of the night, not that anyone would hear even if he bellowed.

“Do you even sleep?”

“I do - not with you,” he grinned “your nightmares keep me awake. You know you hit me in your sleep last night?”

Amora’s mouth hung open, blinking away her tiredness “I don’t have nightmares…” she pulled herself up to meet his eyes, then asked incredulously “did I hit you?”

Believing to have caused offence, Loki quickly replied “No, it was in your sleep - it doesn’t matter.”

“Where?” Her eyes flickered to his body as if the place she’d hit him was going to jump out at her.

Of course she felt bad, they both knew it wasn’t a big deal and it wasn’t intentional. With all her feelings suddenly on the surface, vocalised and performed to Loki, she didn’t want to fracture anything, she didn’t want part of him to think she was insane, more than he knew. Showing herself to people had been her daily nightmare, that’s why they only got a little piece - Loki had the most that anyone in her life had ever received, but only the good parts. There was very little of her that wanted to share her flaws with him.

“What?”

“ _Where_ did I hit you?” Amora breathed in, awakened suddenly. Hands tampering towards him as if they were at the ready to heal broken bones, as if she caused him such harm.

“It didn’t hurt, you don’t exactly pack a punch.” He slid his hand along her face, holding her there “What do you dream about?”

“Was it on your side?” She ignored his question, her expression concerning him as he began shaking his head, defeated “On my chest, we were facing each other.”

Amora tentatively moved his hand away, bringing her legs up to crawl over him as he sat against the headboard. Her fingers found the entrance of his loose shirt as she tugged it slightly, revealing his bare chest as she pressed her mouth to it, kissing against his heart gently.

“Don’t be fooled, I’m still a bitch.” Her features brightened when she faced him again “I just...like you too much to...hurt you.” Her voice wobbled on the last words, still feeling his chest with her fingers.

Loki’s face broke out into laughter “You are soft, aren’t you? You really are.”

“Don’t call me soft, Lucky.”

“Aw,” he wrapped her in a hug, a hand on the back of her head pulling her into his shoulder “ _my little soft ‘mora._ ”

See, Loki had gotten bold. He still blushed when he reached for her hand, or pulled her into his side, but other tendencies of affection that were new to Amora were being performed by him so often to her. She fidgeted in the tight embrace, heart fouling at being called soft. Gods, she preferred witch to that “Do you want cursed?”

He only laughed in return, which was slightly infuriating to Amora’s ego “You know, you come off a lot less scary after - “ he gave her a flirtatious look, referencing moments of bliss between them that Amora hadn’t the willpower to, well, remain silent on.

Everything that had been restricted before had unravelled, she encountered such new things about him and she allowed him to peel back some of her layers. But people grew tired of each over time, and Amora doubted they’d be any different, it was the long game mixed with douses of lust. She would enjoy it for a while, because that’s all that should be done. They would have fun, and more than fun, then she simply supposed they would move onto their next victims.

* * *

_Tell me a lie, now that we are heavily disguised._

Sif had never seen Amora's sleeping chambers, she had no inkling that her abode was situated in the palace. She presumed, as most did about the Enchantress as they decided against asking her direct questions in fear of being magically paralysed, that she and Karnilla lived outwith the grounds.

Amora’s back was to her, but of course the young sorceress knew she was there. A pile of books were towered above her, rolls of parchment falling onto the floor with every slight movement Amora made as she flicked pages through a larger open book on the table. Sif had strode in, faking confidence in order to match Amora’s set self-esteem - the sorceress could smell weakness, and would follow through with a kill if she sensed if from Sif.

“The King is sending his most dedicated, successful warriors-in-training to Alfheim, to study techniques with their soldiers. According to Volstagg, it is because Asgard and Alfheim are at peace so - “

“Did you come here to educate me on Alfheim and Asgard’s united front?” Amora chirped, already bored at Sif’s monologue and the fact she somehow spoke as if Amora had already agreed to assist in whatever idea was circling that dim brain of hers. She turned sharply to see Sif hovering between her chaise lounge and bed, not missing that her eyes ran over her normal possessions as if they were tools of destruction.

“He is sending them to Alfheim, but only the men.” This was probably the first time Amora had witnessed Sif with such anger “We both know the women are just as capable as the men - possibly more. This just makes a mockery of the Valkyrie.”

Amora’s eyebrows jerked in confusion. Odin was old, traditional in terms of power and, in her opinion, incompetent (mostly as a father) but he never separated his warriors on sex, he wouldn’t dare dissociate their strengths and make them only comparable by genetics.

“We both know the female warriors that train day and night are strong and committed - “

“Yourself included.”

This was a subject that Sif was incredibly educated in, but Amora had heard her speeches before - usually after a condescending comment from another warrior about her ‘place’ in the training yard, or when she enjoyed too much mead. After feasts where Thor would have his own competition of how much he could drink, Sif would attempt to join him and the two would end up lying over the now empty chairs long after guests had left. Amora only knew this because she and Loki would stay with the two while they quickly got drunk, Loki keeping an eye on his brother just in case he traversed from drinking to more dangerous quests like starting wars. Sif had always felt very strongly about female warriors and their right to be just as worthy as the male, it was probably the only topic her and Amora could successfully converse on, if they were forced to speak. Although, Amora knew Sif wouldn’t seek her out to discuss politics.

“Yes, but there are others that deserve - “

“Sif, as much as I adore hearing you squeak, can you just tell me what you want?” Amora deliberately sighed as she watched Sif jerk her eyes from the ottoman (staring at it as if it was going to sprout legs and beat her) to her “you must be desperate, considering the walk from the training yard to here.”

“I need you to make me a man.”

The tension that was already placed between the two from the moment Sif entered the room completely soured and replaced by an utter, confused atmosphere solely pouring from Amora.  
“Pardon?” She spoke, after digesting what Sif said. The absolute bewilderment naked on her face, even though she usually executed each expression to perfection before allowing it to adorn her features, this was a time that was unnecessary.

“I’m serious, Amora.” Sif remained unchanged after Amora’s face transfixed from her usual simper “I know you cast transformation spells.”  
“You don’t want my help, but my magic?” she scoffed, turning back to her studies. Of course, she wasn’t reading the pages as she was still comprehending Sif’s statement. Sif despised sorcery. Transformation spells weren’t the exact curriculum for apprentices, and it seemed Sif somehow knew that. Possibly Thor had gotten wind that Amora was attempting to teach Loki the casts, and she didn’t truly care but if Karnilla found out, then she would be punished, probably eternally.

“I believe the two come as one.”

Amora found Sif to be as interesting as a rock most times, they barely shared the same air. She would only be in Sif’s presence if she was in Thor’s, that be it if she were with Loki. While the brothers would converse, Amora and Sif would make the odd comment, not favouring the other as much they did with their chosen Prince. Yet, she always found a way to sneak negative comments about sorcery into grouped conversation, whether it be in the training yard with Thor and a few others or seated amongst guests in the dining hall. Amora didn’t care for anyone's opinion on what she chose to focus on, or what the gods granted her with - an impeccable talent for sorcery, but she found Sif’s annoying remarks, well, annoyed.

“You, who loathes sorcery, are here to ask for a favour, a spell!”

“Is there a way to have a conversation without you gloating?”

“Oh no, I’m going to enjoy this.”

Sif threw her eyes up dramatically “Oh, _please._ ”

Amora grinned, watching her stand in front of her. Never would she have dreamt the warrior-in-training to come crawling for something she didn’t need, but wanted from someone she had very little time for. In addition to watching Sif squirm as she waited for a reply, she was also going to make this difficult for her.

“You truly want to go through with this?” Amora asked, pretend disbelief painted on her face “you may get banished, Siffy.”

“Well, if you do your trick properly we won’t be summoned to court.” She had crossed her arms in a haste “I’m going to prove myself, it’s in my nature.”

“It’s in my nature!” Amora mocked her, drawing out the words “Good gods, Sif - if you want to be petty for once, at least let your words allow it.”

“Fine.” Sif grimaced as if speaking her unedited thoughts aloud was going to choke her “I am going to make them truly regret their words.”

Amora pretended to clap “Well, that wasn’t much better. But I have finished my tasks from Karnilla today, so I’ll help you.” The venom in her voice oozing out of her mouth, the look in her eye wasn’t exactly honest and Sif felt that she, herself, was going to regret her words, but she remained (somewhat) hopeful.

“Good. When do we start?”

Sif and Amora had never begun or finished a friendship. They could be mutual, but they’d rather not, suiting better to being the back-up when the two brothers were arguing. Knowing they got on better when they were apart, they kept themselves that way. Amora didn’t exactly like the idea of not lying, but not telling Loki. It wasn’t as if they were promised to the other and shared everything, it wasn’t as if they bonded over honesty and trust.

When Loki and Sif crossed paths - one coming back from Amora’s and the other going to - they gave the other sharp, sometimes puzzled looks. Sif, for once, had more knowledge; she knew where she went and she knew he was going to visit the exact same place. Although she was secure in the fact she knew Amora wouldn’t share their spell-crafting secret - but she sometimes thought he could read her mind, and that he just knew what was going on.

“Does Sif visit you?” He asked after seeing Sif for the third time in a week walking back, he assumed, from Amora’s chambers.

Lifting her head out of the book on her desk, she let out an exaggerated laugh, glancing up at him “Of course not, why would she want to?”

Considering the situation regarding Thor and the months detrimental to her relationship with Loki, Amora should’ve been honest with him, but there was no way her assisting Sif was going to affect him. She just had to evade the truth for a while…

* * *

Amora didn’t reveal the whole begging Sif situation to Loki, as Sif requested her to not do so. Not that she would take orders from her, but decided to keep it between them simply because it was a punishable act - and Odin’s hatred of her would get her a severe punishment. Although, she had missed her time with Loki. Ever since they lit the match, they’d been so unbearably attached. The kisses came in the quiet of the night, when the only voice would be his against hers, making some stupid joke or reference to a time spent together before.

Amora had little left to cover, and she despised it. He memorised all her tricks, began to know what she was thinking before she thought of it. He knew the play, knew the act they were on, every time Amora dragged her fingers along his lips he knew to kiss and swipe his tongue, drawing a giggle and brief tremble from her own lips.

Amora needed a break from the constant spell-binding sessions with Sif, especially at such a stressful time, also she had missed her daily happenings with Loki. Amora sauntered in his room, as she usually did. Wrapped in more than one satin robe she flopped down next to Loki who had his head in a book. Amora usually sat with him as he read, requesting him to read aloud to her. However, with her impatience brewing and neediness readying, she rolled onto her side to stare at him until he moved the book from his face.

“Why is it,” he glanced down at her, placing the book on his lap “that you want to spend your evenings with me?”

“You say that as if my presence in your chambers is unusual.” She brought her knees up slightly, jabbing his side in the process.

“It is, at this time.” Loki raised his brow at her, knowing too much about her to be thrown.

“Ah, you see,” Amora hummed “even though I’m rather irrational as of late, down to something more biological. I enjoy your emotional company as well as just physical.”

“Hm,” his face cracked a wolfish grin as he looked over Amora “this time does make you rather irrational...I feel like you’re going to take your frustrations out on me, and not in the way I enjoy.”

“Alas, you’ll have to wait a few more days for that, if you’re lucky.”

“Oh, how exciting.” Loki shifted as he moved over, leaning to place the book on the nightstand closest to Amora. Her eyes widened as he pressed against her, all too quickly before returning to his sitting position.

With scattered hormones, Amora shifted with anticipation, lips parted “You are - “

“Devilishly handsome?” He cocked his head to her, enjoying how easy it was to ruffle her feathers.

“A pain in the ass.” She said flatly, still looking up through her lashes at him.

“Gods, you’re not going to cry again are you?” He said, waggling his brows at her as she looked away.

“I didn’t cry, I was rather irritated.” The outburst from her was enough to make Loki stifle his laughter.

“ _Ah, how ever will I deal with you_.”

“You’re going to have to deal with me and soothe me in other ways,” her fingers traced up his arm, trying to rile him as much as he did her.

Loki grinned at her “I thought there was only one way to soothe you.”

“You’re just going to have to be very, _very_ kind to me.” She whispered as he slid down next to her, remaining as his back as her fingers found the collar of his shirt.

“I will make sure to be absolutely horrid.” He purred, hands dragging along her hips, squeezing as he watched her chest rise and fall rather rapidly. Then he quickly released her, retiring his playfulness as she grew irritated “So you’re going to stay here and I’ll, I suppose, hold you until you fall into a slumber?”

“How romantic of you.” Amora, ever struggling to maintain a certain amount of willpower, ran her hands up his neck and onto his face “Mhm, although I do like your arms around me.”

Feeling sorry for her, and knowing it wasn’t the start of one of their high-and-dry games, he wrapped his arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her head as he rubbed the satin on her back “You’re acting like we can’t just kiss.” He nuzzled into her hair.

“We never usually can.” Amora spoke into his neck, darting her tongue out to swipe at his soft skin, sending sensations up his spine. His eyes fluttered closed as he nudged down to peck her lips, pulling away to see her scrunched-up face. Her touch was working.

“Not even a proper kiss?” The whine was apparent in her voice, she poked Loki’s chest in annoyance.

He only laughed in return “I don’t want to make you... _more_ irrational.”

Amora groaned “The long game will be anything worse.”

“I’m sure it will be, my darling.” Kissing her sweetly for only a moment, he reached to pull the sheets over them both. While Sif had made a passing comment to her once she stumbled in on a brief moment of passion between them, she ruled them to be some kind-of romance drained physical-only relationship. Under the covers with the door locked alluded to that, but it was a safe, private moment. For them.

* * *

They had practiced in the early mornings. Sif would seek Amora out, usually finding her in her chambers but once in the library, lying dishevelled amongst open books. Sif was not inadequate, but she was not as good a student as Loki. She didn’t listen like him, and she didn’t have his perseverance which Amora enjoyed, especially when she was at her wits end and almost gave up.

Yet Sif was completely fresh in the magical environment. She had witnessed Loki’s spells and tricks, she had heard of Frigga being discreet with sorcery and she’d seen Amora throw enchantments at plants under Karnilla’s watchful eye.

“You don’t even have to cast the spell,” Amora signed, fingers between her brows “you just have to hold it.”

Sif grunted in reply as Amora demonstrated the spell again. They stood in front of the mirror in Amora’s room so they could absolutely be certain everything that resembled their femininity was changing as Amora swirled her hands about, muttering words Sif didn’t attempt to understand.  
Sif and Amora had decided that upon discovering Sif’s lack of magical ability, and even the skill of lying, that they both would guise themselves as male warriors to weasel their way on the exclusive trip. Amora was just as skilled as a warrior as Sif was as a sorceress. Amora’s useful attributes such as deceiving and scheming were going to be more than helpful in order to be successful. She had little to-do with the art of throwing herself against others that wanted to kick and hit her. Reminding Sif of her ability to simply transport them away from her so she wouldn’t have to even fight, only irritated Sif.

“There is nothing like the skill of a warrior,” she said, nose in the air “when your magic fails and your daggers break, what will you have to fall back on in battle?”

“Maybe I could just throw you ahead of myself.” Amora’s snide laughter laced the air as Sif ignored her, turning and twisting as she looked at her reflection.

With the spell taking form, Sif’s hair recessed, the dark braid falling away which initially panicked her - but Amora reminded her ever so reassuringly that it would return when she lifted the spell. With her womanhood quite literally in Amora’s hands, Sif had to give her more trust than she was willing.

“And you haven’t told Loki of our plan?” Sif asked, checking her now larger set of thighs as Amora’s figure gradually transformed.

“Why do you doubt me so much, _Siffy?_ ” She asked, fingers running over the stubble growing on her now square jawline.

“Just, all that time together - must run out of topics to discuss…” Sif trailed off, making a face in the mirror that was obvious to Amora.  
Obviously Sif had no idea of how...intense Amora’s relationship was with the second prince - it wasn’t an act of exclusivity and they weren’t about to label it. However, Amora had to understand that no matter who she floated around, she was going to be linked with them. Even when she spoke to Skurge fleetingly in the courtyard, Fandral had been quick to utter a crude jest.

“And when you run out of conversation with Thor, what do you do?”

Sif ignored her, smoothing down the new armour she sported after the transformation finished, the green slowly evaporating from her as it did with Amora. It seemed, initially, a complex plan for simply rebutting Odin’s orders - that's the way Sif said it, Amora knew that this simply was the art of pride and partial revenge that Sif wouldn’t word out loud. Yet, Amora wasn’t either eager or happy to assist, she simply was intrigued. The use of her spells could be practiced on willing and participating test subjects, and she made sure Karnilla wouldn’t miss her for a few days.

“Sif and I are traveling to Alfiem,” Amora slid into conversation during tutoring “the maiden with the dark hair, the warrior.”

Karnilla knew who she was talking about, and was surprised at Amora’s befriending of someone that wasn’t as sly or cunning as herself. The idea of her going to another realm with Sif didn’t make her uneasy, per say - she had known Sif longer than Amora, and found her to be competent and trustworthy.

“What is this for?” Karnilla asked, a hand spooking Amora as it jolted out to grab her own, physically fixing her gesturing “are the Princes going?”

“No, they aren’t. It is just Sif and I - I believe Queen Frigga wants us to bond and each have a female friend, which is why she suggested it.”  
“And Alfiem, because?”

“The art of sorcery and combat is most defined there.” Amora smiled up at Karnilla, hoping to the gods she wouldn’t see through her “so if we come close to ripping the other’s hair out, we can relax to a medium of our preference.”

“Very well, _smár norse_. You may go.”

* * *

The trip consisted of a small group. It seemed that when Odin said men only, he was selective in the choice. The Warriors Three were there, saddling up their horses and bantering with each other - it seems Sif wasn’t exactly missed (Amora said this verbally to Sif and in their new forms, Sif couldn’t exactly whack her over the head). The two Princes were there, of course - and Amora knew there were stronger warriors with far better technique but it obviously they had to attend. Odin was moulding strong, successful warriors out of his sons, he wouldn’t accept anything less.  
Sif and Amora, disguised in their male forms, made an appearance as Volstagg was checking names against a list. The list was essential in insisting that no one who wasn’t to attend, to attend. This initially caused a problem for Sif and Amora when they eavesdropped on a conversation regarding the trip.

“What are we going to do?” Sif asked, those eyes swivelling into her head, searching for an answer.

“You truly think a piece of parchment is going to stop us?” Amora jeered, mocking the way Sif asked her. She clearly hadn’t done anything illegal before and it showed.

Although, it did take Amora time to comprise a plan which would successfully sneak them on the trip. Their male forms weren’t not just a replicate of their usual, they were taken identically from two real men. Two warriors that were already on the list. She had Sif distract the two and draw them down a dim lit corridor where she cast a sleeping spell on the two men, watching the light fade from their eyes and into a selected sleep.

Amora, obviously, would remove it when she and Sif returned. For now, they were hidden in a locked chamber, sleeping soundly over each other.

“Is that dangerous?” Sif asked, arms crossed “I told you, you can’t terminally impair them.”

“I told you this whole plan would run more smoothly if you didn’t doubt my skill so often,” Amora snapped, although part of her realised her sleeping trances hadn’t always gone to perfection. She knew how to cast them and rid them, but on occasion the poor individual remained somewhat perplexed.

“Ah, good to see you, Fion.” Fandral slapped a hand on Amora’s large shoulder. He gave Sif a brief smile and quickly moved on to greet the others. Fion. She needed to remember the name.

“I think I’m the one that beat Fandral seven times over sparring a few weeks ago,” Sif whispered quietly to Amora, realising that Fandral’s sparse communicate with her was due to his ‘esmasculation’ during that sparring match “I think his name is Jöff.”

“ _Your name_ ,” Amora reprimanded “Your name is Jöff.”

Sif was able to execute a poor (Amora had unfortunately spent enough time with her to know her comebacks were dissatisfactory) remark just as a bulkier warrior crashed into her, sending her a few yards back.

“Ah, my good friend, my apologies!” Thor heaved ‘Jöff’ up with little to no effort. He seems he and Loki were having another bratty fight ending in shoving each other, and it seemed this time resulted in Loki using a spell to send Thor as far away as he could. Amora was rather proud, she showed him that.

“It is quite alright.” Sif spoke in a low, low, low tone. Amora had since mastered changing appearances and altering identities, especially on others. Yet she struggled with reinventing Sif’s voice, she couldn’t attach the original figure’s normal voice. So Sif had practiced lowering her voice by a couple octaves.

“Are you well, Jöff?” Thor asked, a bit bemused by the change in tone.

“Just - just recovering from a cold, that’s all.”  
Amora cringed under her multiple layers as Sif managed to save them with no further questions. Thor had just wished him well while he saddled up his own horse while Amora spared a look at Loki, noting his travelling uniform and the fact he appeared less than thrilled to be attending, a trip to learn and compare battle techniques was what he would refer to as especially boring.

He’d only told her he was going a few days after Sif came to her, when curled into her sides in his bed. Amora had performed a reaction and only asked the usual questions, Loki seemed only irritated in the fact it was going to bring out Thor’s worst - his desire for battling when simple communication was preferred. The trip announcement also came days after Thor was spotted with a shiny bruise on his face, Amora had initially felt bad when she saw it but it seemed both Thor and Loki had mended their brief breakdown...but even through her Male eyes, she could make out every glare Loki sent Thor’s way.

The doubt lurking in the back of Amora’s mind was squashed as she climbed upon her own horse, following the mighty pack of warriors she realised she would have to spend the following week with. Such an elaborate plan required care, thought and commitment - this could be easily successfully done solo, however with the addition of Sif who could easily out them with the tiniest slip was part of the doubt Amora had. Now, that they were officially leaving the realm there was, per say, no going back. No retreating and most definitely no rethinking, in order to swindle these warriors and both Royal families, she reminded Sif cattily that any mishap, any blown cover would fall back on both of them. Sif nodded, she wasn’t a foolish woman, yet Amora wasn’t certain she wouldn’t betray her in the end.

* * *

Alfeim was a similar realm to Asgard, it was captivating in beauty and power, the faint waft of magic lingering in the air and the palace overlooking spectacular landscapes. The people of Alfeim were known, and highly respected, for peace. The Royal family presented two beautiful children; a curly-haired, mature Prince and a starry-eyed, ethereal Princess. Amora was certain they had attended one feast centuries ago as much younger versions of themselves. They were incredibly formal juveniles as opposed to Thor at this particular party, who destroyed part of the thousand year-old fountain in a matter of minutes after one too many goblets of mead.

The men of Asgard were overly battle-hungry, rough and supremely talented in the art of war. The men of Alfeim were diplomatic fighters first, preferring their tongue to spears and shields, if they were required to don armour and defend, they would. They matched Asgard in skill, but did not ooze the same adrenaline when it came to warfare. This made them seem all the more heroic to Amora; she appreciated the good resolver before destroyer. She had little regard for current affairs, but immediately respected that they fought with their words over weapons, understandably hesitant to immediately wage war upon other realms before actually understanding the issue at hand.

Situated outside the palace grounds, the Prince and Princess came to greet the arriving Asgardians. Amora was amidst the back of the group with Sif, they weren’t exactly out of earshot but she missed whatever the Prince said in order to make Thor’s face turn from excitement to a cold, stormy expression.

“I believed the Royal court would’ve explained this further,” The Prince said, noticing the cycle of annoyance appearing across the rest of the warriors’ faces - bar Amora and Loki. The Prince was clearly under the impression that Thor was sent by the court, and not his father. That he was selected due to his skill and commitment and not just because he was related to the Allfather.

The Prince went on to explain it was less of some gruelling and draining battle with the fellow men of Alfeim and more a boring war conference. The disappointment was blatantly hung on Thor's face like the art decorating the great hall; unmissable and overcompensated. Few of the other men seemed defeated about the introduction of discussing war instead of engaging in it, however Loki appeared blessedly pleased at the announcement. Thor wasn't unintelligent; he was foolish, childish and believed no rules applied to him, or his princely alter-ego. Thor, surrounded by friends, could be silently goaded to do a variety of activities that would most definitely get him punished. Frigga always appeared when the dare was about to get out of hand; Thor could potentially be persuaded to conquer all Nine Realms if egged-on by pals.

Perhaps Odin's prompted trip for his sons was simply for Thor to be taught discipline and governance from another Realm, another royal family - so it wasn't coming direct from Odin's mouth, but Amora wasn't certain that these were all the Alfeim Prince's own words.

"Prince Thor, this land is built on peace," he continued "attempting battle would be, what you would call; an alternative plan - a back-up."

"We do not attempt in Asgard," Thor spoke passionately, raising a fist into the air and almost meeting Fandral's nose "we are successful in war, Asgard does not fail what it sets out to do."

This translated as Thor does not lose. That was all.

"We understand," the Prince looked at the surrounding warriors "we believe understanding the opponents reasons for possible upset, or dismay, is vital in ethical communication between the Realms."

"We understand too, Prince Gunnar." This time Loki spoke, trying to diffuse the tension between the older princes. He wasn't lying either, there had been plenty a time where Amora and Loki would discuss the politics of the Realms - he was forbid to share information divulged only to immediate members of the royal family, but nether the less he danced around what he'd been told in conversation to Amora. While she was less interested than him in politics, they both had similar stances on the stages of warfare - while they weren't identical to Alfeim's, they weren't far-off from the draft.

Prince Gunnar only nodded in return, then spoke to all of the Asgardian warriors yet his eyes locked firmly on Thor.

"We shall await your presence tomorrow, the first meeting begins at noon - you will be sent details of this by supper."

Sif hadn't received the news well. Not as badly as Thor, but she was out to prove herself and show off her skill to win Odin's approval. And possibly draw Thor's eyes away from the Princess. This was Amora's own observation although it was hardly missed that while Prince Gunnar fixated his gaze on Thor, his sister was staring bobbly-eyed at Thor with a completely different expression. It seemed she wanted Thor to meet her gaze - which he usually would do if he hadn’t just been dampened by the news that he would not be battling but learning.

* * *

Thor was so dashing and handsome that his looks alone seemed to charm people. Although this wouldn't help once he opened his mouth, as he did during the first meeting. The previous evening the warriors had siphoned away to their designated chambers as ordered by the Royal minder - Sif had begun nervously sweating in her form at this point, but Amora had already placed thoughts in the minder’s head that Sif and her would be sharing.

“I understand your tactics, and this vision your people have - but if war is upon your realm, you need to be able to burn it out.” Thor stated, sat opposite from the Prince who was demonstrating a map and some scrolls that were pinned to the wall. The word ‘tactic’ insulted the Prince, even Sif winched at Amora’s side when he said it. The man could not dissociate with his pride even in the company of other Royals.

The Prince repeatedly blinked in return “Alfheim’s tactics are to understand the opposing and not burn them out, but dissuade them.”

“Do you have any threats currently?” Thor asked, becoming more annoyed with the Prince’s argument. Loki had sat forward at this point, just in case Thor leaped out of his seat onto the Prince in the heat of escalation, although he wasn’t certain he could hold an angry Thor back.

“Our only issue as of late is a small congregation of villager-warriors, upset with some of the recent proposed laws. They haven’t begun any attacks yet, we are willing to speak to them.”

“Yet?” Thor scoffed, displaying how he could be a brat so effortlessly “and when they wage upon this palace with their swords and shields, you will invite them to, what, a conference?”

“The people of Alfheim are distinguished. They do not seek violence or power, they just want to be heard.” Although the Prince’s lips thinned as he spoke, it seemed he was not only trying to convince Thor and the warriors but himself at this point.

“We understand the ways in which your realm wishes to diffuse the actions of few, my brother here merely shares his worries for larger gatherings.” The Prince actually seemed as if he was about to agree with Loki, the harshness of his brows retreating slightly as he digested what he said.

The moment quickly soured as Thor didn’t take Loki’s interruption as diluting the situation, but agreeing with Prince Gunnar. Amora heard Volstagg vocally winch as Thor erupted “No, no matter how small or large the opposition, you must fight off those who attempt to thaw at your realm! The consequences could - “

Amora had never been so interested in politics, it was the most exciting back-and-forth argument she’d witnessed in years. Thor and the Prince were even in height, matched in rage and absolutely ready to brawl right there on the ground. The Prince shot back in fury at Thor - it seemed Thor had exerted all that diligence and assiduousness right out of his body.

“The consequences could be fatal! We do not wish to betray our people - “

“ - your people listen to you, not the other way around - “

“ - Alfheim respects it’s people so the people respect the palace. It is apparent that does not happen in Asgard!”

Thor’s finger was wagging close to Prince Gunnar’s face, the two were enraged with coloured cheeks and they appeared as some historical painting especially as Loki had wormed his way between them, one hand tentatively on Thor’s arm. It seemed unnoticed to everyone else, but Amora saw the slip of a dagger emerge from the end of Loki’s sleeve.

“Perhaps we could do with a break.” The fleeting look from overly polite (aimed at Prince Gunnar) to unmissable anger (aimed at Thor) was entertaining enough for Amora to suppress a giggle.

Thor stormed one way, and Prince Gunnar the other. Sif appeared to be shuffling through her own thoughts, and Amora believed them to be coherent until she sat up and marched over to Thor.

“Damn,” Amora whispered to herself as she quite literally raced after Sif, who had all but grabbed Thor’s arm. Amora’s fingers latched round Sif’s muscular, manish arm and forced her back in such a hurried motion she slammed into Amora’s chest.

“Quite alright?” Fandral said in a sing-song voice, passing the two to meet Thor’s pace. Volstagg was far slower and apprehensive to console the Asgardian Prince. Amora never laid eyes on Hogunn as she maintained her full attention of Sif.

“ _You are not you,_ ” Amora hissed between the two of them “you can’t kiss Thor’s bruised ego this way!” she gestured wildly at Sif, guised in her male form.

“I can calm him down.” Sif retorted in a low whisper, the other warriors had stalked past them on Thor’s tail, quite reluctantly too.

Amora only rolled her eyes “Sif can calm him down, I’m not quite sure you can.”

Sif had wanted to throw her to the side, but instead just shoved past her (in the opposite direction to Thor). The doubt was crawling back into Amora’s head, she knew she had to babysit Sif in her second form, but actually physically hold her back from revealing herself on the first day.

* * *

“We are going to battle.”

Thor had gathered the warriors - well that was untrue, he had ordered Fandral and Hogunn to summon everyone from their rooms early the next morning. Whining warriors collected their swords, shields and begrudgingly donned their armour (along with their appearance before Thor, they were asked to suit themselves up in their gear).  
It seemed Fandral had to knock on a few doors before theirs, and had to physically wake up some of the warriors. Every single lethal spell Amora had practiced (obviously not under Karnilla) crossed her mind when Fandral waltzed in, too cheery for the morning but clearly irritated having to awaken the other men.

“We’ll be out in a minute!” Amora threw the sheet over her head, burying herself under the covers and propping a pillow against her stomach to imply a fuller form.

The candle he held danced in the darkness of the room, it was incredibly early. Fandral shrugged and explained they were to meet in the yard, casting a quick glance over Sif’s bed but not catching her slender, female figure in the shadows.

After launching the pillow tucked under the sheets at Sif’s head, Amora jumped up and prepared herself. A pitiful feeling developed in her stomach, there was no good reason behind Thor assembling warriors at such hours in a realm that didn’t belong to him. Not that Asgard did, but he had more authority there. Plus Thor wasn’t an early riser, something she had asked Sif and the only answer given was a thump to the back of the head.

Thor stood against the break of day, a beautiful scenic view was painted behind him through the large glass doors. He was donned head-to-toe in battle armour beside a sleep deprived Loki. The greetings from the usual-chirpy warriors were far from boisterous and more lacklustre.

“Morning, Thor,” Volstagg said less warmly than he could’ve “has something happened?”

“Not yet,” Thor replied with such energy it could power all of Asgard “we - “ he dramatically looked at each warrior “ - are going to battle!”

Murmurs among the warriors were quickly silenced by Thor, worrying others in the area would hear and alert the Prince of his revelation.  
Sif looked at Amora - and even with her borrowed eyes Amora could see the stress in them as if they belonged to Sif. She happened to notice Fandral trying to hype the others up as she looked pretty dismal, knowing they were about to go against the Royals’ wishes.

“We’re not going to battle,” this time Loki spoke and Amora immediately shushed Sif who was quietly complaining to her “we’re going to the village of the marauders that disapprove of Alfheim’s new laws - the ones Prince Gunnar was going to simply talk to.” his eyes shot to Thor at the last part, he looked exasperated as he spoke - it was clear Thor and Loki had been awake far longer than the rest, arguing about the outcome of Thor’s (and it was only Thor’s) plan.

“Marauders? How many are there?” Volstagg questioned, his eyes daggering to Loki as if it were his foolish idea.

“A village, just.” Loki answered dryly.

“My brother and I have decided to use our presence effectively!” Thor grinned “we shall meet these marauders, and if they do not appreciate our being there - “ his voice lowered as he tapped Mjolnir “ - then will we give them the battle that Alfeim refuses.”

“Really?” Fandral asked, although he didn’t question the plan the way Volstagg had, he genuinely seemed excited.

“ _Really._ ” Loki again answered dryly, opposing Fandral’s clear excitement.

“What exactly is in Amora’s kiss to suddenly make battling your desire?” He laughed. Fandral’s jokes were always meant in good jest, he was actually rather decent compared to the rest of the warriors (and Sif). However, the skin under Amora’s armour pricked at the mention of her name. As mentioned, she was accustomed to hearing Fandral’s stupid comments but no one actually believed them to be partly truthful…

Thor slapped his brother on the back before he had the chance to answer a witty reply, “Enough! We shall leave now.” Thor signalled the warriors to go-ahead and rejoin their horses, yet Amora managed to catch the raised brows Thor gave Loki.

* * *

The village was in a secluded part of Alfeim. Far from the palace, amidst the gloom and darkness in the forests, situated against not the most alluring backdrop. Amora and Sif rode at the back of the group, probably not the wisest idea considering ambush - Sif would be left to defend them both.  
Thor’s head was set on battle, he wanted to prove that battling could be better than discussions, meetings and conferences. All because he didn’t like them. He was Odin’s son after all. Volstagg explained to the surrounding warriors that the laws presented had upset the marauders so because it affected their habit, the environment they created for themselves. Alfeim wasn’t built like Asgard, glimmering buildings and golden doors, even in the markets. The outskirts were mainly grass and green, there was an obvious wealth gap - yet Volstagg described the marauders defending what they built as their own, they wouldn’t be paid off or relocated. Amora honestly became bored through the conversation, the palace should just leave them be. Prince Gunnar seemed to hold this view too, in what she understood during the argument, yet he wanted to push the laws on the marauders through words and not weapons.

“Thor, how ever will we find these marauders?” Fandral asked, tired from the travelling already. It was possible they had been going in circles.

“My dear friend, you can smell the cowardice. We are close.”

Amora didn’t know if her eyes could roll any more, they’d be totally worn out on this trip alone, generally in the presence of Thor they practically began falling out of her head.

The yelp of a warrior rattled Amora, she gripped her horse’s reins in a panic. The warrior flew off his own horse into an uncomfortable heap, blood pouring from his shoulder, a thin arrow lodged in it. In the sudden frenzy, half the troop disembarked and created a circle round the squad in order to protect while Hogunn and another warrior Amora didn’t know went to the aid of the fallen man.

“Cowards!” Thor’s booming voice jolted Amora out of her brief confusion, Sif had pulled Amora into a secreted area behind the trees. Volstagg and Fandral were with them, weapons on dramatic display like statuettes in an Asgardian museum.  
While all the warriors were hidden and protected (somewhat) behind shrubs and bushes, Thor frolicked around where the arrow was aimed.

“Retreat.” The voice echoed as Thor and the others caught its attention. Thor prowled on forward only to have Loki appear and grab his arm.

A collection of marauders appeared, some in front of Thor, some behind. Two of them were not so far from Sif and Amora, holding their bows steadily.  
“Brother, I think it’s best if we don’t come off too aggressive.”

“Too aggressive! They just impaled one of us!”  
For the first time Amora was in a situation she hadn’t thought about prior. New situations that had come to her in the past were very heavily pondered, understood and she always knew enough about it - as if she was spoiling the ending to a book she was reading. Amora had never joined Thor or Loki on trips like these, even in a stolen form, she couldn’t shake the panic building inside her.

“Retreat.”

Sif seemed to sense this as she reached her from her crouched position and squeezed Amora’s knee.

Sif didn’t seem at all phased, a little spooked from the sudden submergement of a random arrow in her companion, but she wasn’t at all frightened. The most brave of them all, Thor, was still swinging his weapon as if he were teasing the marauders.

“We are sent by the palace, here to discuss - “ Thor swung round to follow the eyes of the marauders, it seemed he found one pair and stuck to it “ - your land.”

“Our land is sacred. The palace has no personal indication on how they feel about our land.”  
The marauder he locked eyes with stepped out of the shadows, his face was covered in dirt as part of the elaborate camouflage they all donned. While he held a bow aimed towards Thor, there were accessories of weapons wrapped around his body.

“Well, yes. Yet you refuse to listen to your palace, your leaders,” Thor paused, a grin appearing “that is not right.”

The marauder pulled on the bow, a noise that was so soft but heard by all the warriors as the rest of the bows made the same noise. Thor gripped his weapon, that dangerous smirk not fading.

“Thor perhaps we - “

He hissed at Fandral to be quiet. Thor knew if he struck, then the rest of the warriors would join in. While the marauders lacked in weaponry, they looked incredibly skilful and determined. Amora was slightly worried at the wild eyes they all shared, glaring around at the golden Asgardians.

“Asgardian scum.”

Thor was a fool for being so misled. Initially, Amora was impressed by his fearsome attitude. Yet as always, his boyish anger took over, any small insult from anyone no matter what the status always alarmed him. As he turned to catch whoever made the comment, the arrow of the first marauder shot towards him. Too fast for the ones with just shields to block, Amora leaped out in front of him, all she heard was the bitter scream from Sif in her masculine voice. With a sharp flick movement from both her hands alarmed the marauder and sent his bow flying in the opposite direction.

Most of the warriors were fighting off the marauders, the arrow being the indication to start a brawl. Each warrior seemed to have a partner but Amora and Thor stood close to each other, if she hadn’t deflected the arrow in time it would’ve gone through her. Thor gaped at her, his shield. Amora’s form rippled from the stolen warrior to herself, still clothed in the male wear. The magical glow surrounding her hands, there were cries and growls around her yet all she could do was stare back.

“Amora,” Thor was in such shock that he didn’t even realise the large marauder that practically jumped on him.

“Thor!” Amora’s yell sliced the air as she summoned a spell to force the marauder away, binding him with an emerald band. Thor roller onto his side from where he landed, grunting disapprovingly at her magic. Or possibly her presence.

“What the Hel are you doing here?” His eyes ran over her uniform, past the wild look in her eyes as he caught sight of Sif who appeared behind Amora.

“Sif?” Fandral called even though he was mid-attack with a marauder, although he seemed to be winning.

A catastrophic scene lay around Amora, Sif was siding up against her fending off attackers. Thor was still frozen but none of the marauders even neared him, focusing on the rest of the Asgardian warriors - with the upper hand. She couldn’t break away from Thor’s deranged look, he appeared fuming. She realised, with Sif’s layered breathing close to her, that this wasn’t a simple trick. It wasn’t turning Thor’s boots into mud or changing the metal on the warriors’ swords to soft fabric.  
Amora was in serious trouble.

The clashing of metal deregistered Amora’s mind, she miscalculated the incoming blow from a marauder that Thor was too slow and too far away to block. Sif dived to protect her, swinging her shield to defend both of them. The ravaging of the marauders and the Asgardian warriors was rife, Thor had separated to throw himself amidst the fighters.

“Amora,” Sif whispered hurriedly to Amora, pulling her into a sitting position.

“I know - “

“No - “ Sif motioned for Amora to look, and she did. There above both of them was a shocked Loki, one hand out dispersing a spell to ward-off attackers.

For the first time between the two of them, neither Amora or Loki had anything to say.

The sounds of battle cries slowly drowned out. Without an etch of surprise, Amora realised the marauders were overcome, defeated as their bodies landed into the mud. None were dead, most of the Asgardian warriors had whacked and beaten them with shields and the hilts of their swords, knocking them out. Sif still crouched behind Amora after Loki had swiftly turned away, heading to the injured warrior in order to heal him.  
With the Asgardians cheering in victory, picking up fallen shields and weaponry, their faces soon changed when they clocked Amora and Sif kneeled on the ground, unmoving. Thor, for once in his life, looked worried - while Amora believed the attack in the marauders against the palace’s wishes was the reason, his ego erased that as he told himself it was right. Thor looked worried because Amora and Sif were the reason for his stricken face, there was no Odin to alleviate the consequences.

* * *

Amora and Sif, now physically in their normal forms since the incident in the woods but now also clothed like themselves - leaving no trace of their male alter-egos as if they never existed.

They both stood alone in a palace room. Decidedly placed there on Thor’s command as he and Loki dealt with both situations with the Royal family. Odin would have surely been notified at this point, not that it bothered Amora. She was currently dealing with Sif’s fury. Sif was furious at Amora. All the time Amora had spent kicking at Sif’s ankles and chasing her to handle her guise, to not let anyone or anything dissolve the illusion they both tried hard to hold.

“What if I blame you, that you forced me,” Amora snarled after hearing Sif’s long-winded and particularly blameless monologue “then what would they think of their precious female warrior? I mean, obviously less than what they already do.”

“I doubt my King would believe you of all people, over someone like me.” Sif replied, feathers all puffed out “And if you truly want to try something as ridiculous, then I may have my own conversation with my King regarding the whereabouts of his son into the evenings.”

Sif caught the sudden change in Amora's demeanour, a dark storm passing over her features. Something inside of her was screaming at her to reply “which son?”, but she didn’t.

"Manipulation doesn't suit you." Amora replied coldly, inside she was somewhat impressed with her ability to go through with a Real Life manipulation. Sif was a less words, more weapons type of person. Although, she didn't exactly look confident when she was saying it, one hand hovering over her holster where she displayed a small knife. Underneath her defences, Amora mentally noted to keep her affiliation with Loki a little more inconspicuous.

“You make it work so well, I’d thought I’d give it a try.”

Sif sounded like Amora. Had they really spent that much time together they were moulding into one another? Amora felt icky at the notion, but Sif wasn’t backing down, supposing her status as a golden warrior of Asgard was at stake. Sif was the one with the idea, but she pinned the fault on Amora for actually revealing themselves, and thus their plan.

“Amora.”

Amora broke her long-held gaze with Sif as she heard her name, in the same soft tone it had always been spoken by him, however this time, she felt nerves riding up for she hadn’t a clue what angle he was going to take.

Loki paused at the door, a curt, unreadable expression masked over his features as he turned to Sif “Thor would like to speak to you - in private.” He gestured that Thor was in another room, or just waiting for her outside in the corridor.

Sif, seemingly trying to hide her actual expression, only turned her head to Loki in acknowledgement before speeding past Amora, out of the room. Amora kept her back on him, never actually being on the opposing end of his annoyance. This was not like simply winding each other up or playing tricks.

“I’m not mad at you, Amora.” He said, footsteps nearing her.

“Don’t call me that.” She hissed, knowing the proper use of her name had implications.

“What?” He asked, pausing behind her as she hung her head.

“You never say my name like that.”

“It’s just, this was a terrible idea. No matter who’s idea...my father will surely punish you severely for this, and I cannot protect you. Not outwith Asgard.” He came to stand in front of her, appearing genuinely sympathetic in a way he would not in front of Thor, even after sparring so physically they’d actually hurt one another.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked after she failed to respond, a hand squeezing her arm.

“I suppose I - “ she fiddled with her hair, partially annoyed at herself for being so vulnerable “ - was trying to help Sif, I think.”

“Somewhat unlike you, yet I believe you.”

Loki looked at her, sweeping his eyes from the bruise on the side of her head to the slight worried glint dancing in her eyes. He could only promise he would stand with her and support her against his father, as he truly didn’t know what punishment the Allfather would have in mind for his least favourite dinner guest.

* * *

Sif remained close to Amora as they walked towards Alfeim’s bridge, towards the Bifrost. They appeared guarded prisoners as everyone else strode around them, while their argument was fresh between them, the apprehensive building as they became closer to Asgard softened them. Possibly in fear they were cast to the dungeons for all eternity, they could at least share a cell.

"What would've you told Odin, if I didn't assist you with this?" Amora asked, shielding insecurity with her. They’d barely spoken a word, but inside Amora more or less panicked about any possible information Sif could hold over her head.

Sif nibbled her lip, sighing "I don't truly know," she added "it is not in my nature to be a sneak. I wouldn't have lied, however if prompted, I wouldn't have revealed all that I know."

Amora’s shoulders suddenly reclined, it seemed Sif hadn’t as much as she thought.  
"That's a rather long way to say you have nothing on me, and that you wouldn't tell Odin anyway."  
"I do know you are fond of him, in a way that no one else sees.” Sif looked away from her “we are not different in our view of each Prince.”

They both looked over their shoulders at the same time, trying to clock anyone - specifically two people - that would hear them. Thor and Loki were at the very back of the troop, walking alongside the Prince and Princess - most likely trying to sweet talk and soften the situation. Perhaps if Amora was serious about her friendship with Sif (which she wasn’t, in any realm) she would have to tell Sif she bedded the boy she liked. But then again, she wasn’t too serious about their friendship.

“He is not mine,” Amora said in a hushed tone “and you don’t have to prove yourself to Thor.”

“I’m not - “

”I mean, not Thor, but to Odin,” Amora crossed her arms “that’s why you wanted to do this - to prove you are a better warrior than wife.”

“And that’s why you helped me?”

“We are not different in our ideals, we just go about them differently.” Amora paused as she looked at Sif, who was in a puzzling world of her own. Her gaze lifted as she looked back at Amora, “What are you going to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, about Sigyn - “

“I’m not going to do anything.”

“But I thought - “

“Sif, you want to prove that you are worth more than a marriage, I don’t want to prove I’m worthy of marriage.”

“But he’ll marry - “

“Sigyn, I know.” She let out a cool laugh, slightly stifling her emotions that were about to unleash in the forms of sobs “but whether I fight or not, it’s not going to be me.”

Sif just smiled sadly at her, as if she was disappointed, but she wasn’t going to press further and rope Amora into another ridiculous plan.

* * *

Amora had more or less been yanked off her horse by palace guards as soon as she stepped onto the bridge. She signalled to both Loki and Sif that she was fine and didn’t care for any dramatics off either of them.

“You deceived your master. You deceived Asgard and you deceived, and endangered your friends.” Odin’s voice was beginning to give her a headache. She’d been dragged to the throne room where Odin sat, eyes barely meeting hers. The guards didn’t release their grip on her no matter how much she shook them off.

“You performed illegal illusions in a foreign realm, on yourself and one of Asgard’s most esteemed warriors.” Odin spat, and she could feel the wrath pouring out of him as she stood metres from him.  
Frigga was beside him, quietly, of course but ready to place a hand on his shoulder as if she could force his anger to retreat. Karnilla stepped forward to meet Odin’s side, she was taller than him which made her all the more daunting to Amora, especially when she was in trouble. Yes, supposedly she was more worried about Karnilla’s statement than Odin’s.

“I am disappointed, Amora.”

Karnilla referred to Amora by her name rarely. Similar to how Loki called her pet names and only used her true name when it was something serious. Amora brought her eyes up from the floor momentarily, Karnilla’s hardened gaze was sunk into her. It seemed she had little to say, which spooked Amora more than anything else, it would be much more lavish to receive a verbal beating than silence.

“You will be disciplined, this is a warning to you not as Karnilla’s apprentice but as a citizen of Asgard. The only reason we have lightened your punishment is due to both Karnilla and the Queen believing you can be fine-tuned.”

The guards loosened their grip on her as she waited to hear what Odin’s punishment was, if he had solo input she’d be scrubbing the rainbow bridge with her tongue. Although, she was quietly pleased with Karnilla and Frigga standing up for her, although outwardly they were both simmering.

“Sparring.”

“What?” Amora believed she’d heard wrong, that he didn’t just utter the word ‘sparring’ as if she was familiar with the terminology. Was he going to allow her to be the punchbag for the warriors as punishment?

Karnilla had sent burning daggers to Amora for withholding her manners when addressing Odin. Frigga looked towards Odin as if mentally suggesting to rethink the punishment.

“You brought our finest female warrior disdain by dragging her in with your foolishness. Sif will not be punished, but she will be refined by spending time teaching,” he continued and Amora’s eyes widened by the second, she’d given up arguing that she wasn’t solely at fault but Odin clearly ignored any and all her rebuttals.

“Sif is going to teach you the ways of a true Asgardian warrior. It is about time you learn to fight appropriately, not depending solely on sorcery as a defence.”

She was mostly surprised Karnilla didn’t object, as he was tearing her chosen art to shreds. Well, weighing up whether to defend sorcery or belittle Amora, it was an easy choice for Karnilla. She’d focused so much on defending sorcery that she almost didn’t hear the part about being Sif’s student. Pairing her with Sif for practice was like pairing Thor with Karnilla for sorcery tutelage.

"Why should sparring be a punishment?" She withheld her anger but not her words, no matter how hard the guards steel hands pressed into her shoulders "when Thor screws up he doesn't have to take a lesson from Karnilla!"

Karnilla had made her way down the golden steps as Amora spoke, for a fleeting second she believed Karnilla would side up against her in support.

“You will refer to your master appropriately.”  
Amora received a well-deserved whack to the back of the head from Karnilla.

Karnilla was such an authoritative figure that rare instances of affection made her reel into herself; the simple placement of her hand upon Amora's shoulder in a moment of bliss once she achieved a cast taught no less than five minutes prior was an act Karnilla was not willing to repeat.

It wasn't merely because of her powerful status as a woman or her heightened leadership under the all father. She was perhaps always like that, Amora wouldn't know her any different.

The coldness of her eyes turned cocky men away at feasts, her impeccable stance and unchanging features spooked some of the children. Amora wanted to learn both these tactics, there was nothing more attractive than a powerful woman. The way Frigga was welcoming, Karnilla was not. Frigga was golden, beautiful and caring, Karnilla was fierce, mysterious and alluring. There were two women Amora found more inspiring, although she kept this to herself, she didn’t need anyone else’s input regarding her ‘role models’.

“Very well, Amora will begin her training tomorrow morning, if that is suitable?” Odin looked towards Karnilla who simply nodded, her gaze on him softer than he was on her.

Odin and her side-by-side appeared not as rulers, but destroyers. Frigga was fading in the shadows, her lips thin and stare disappointed.

_Fuck._

* * *

Amora slouched in the yard, a heavy sword on her hip and some odd padding shoved inside her clothes. She sat on the ledge of the fountain as Sif gave multiple perfect demonstrations, one after the other and Amora couldn’t keep up. The smell of sweat was the only scent under her bleeding nostrils, it was also hidden under her clothing. She wasn’t made for such strenuous and elaborate activities, well, not ones that didn’t come with ounces of pleasure.

Amora was talented at deceiving, while she could lie, she didn't always have to. Her manipulating ways were strong in other manners such as flirtation and the art of seduction which she easily used against men. Protesting, she summoned herself to stand and deflect Sif’s incoming attacks.  
The hilt of Sif’s sword met Amora’s chin in a fast-paced execution of a move that Amora was meant to duck for.

“Amora.”

A voice that didn’t belong to Sif penetrated her ears as she fell back, her knees almost met her bloody chin as she landed in an awkward heap, scrambling to get back up as quickly as she fell.

“Thor.” She almost spat at her as she blew hair out of her mouth, her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to contain all forms of emotion.

Amora was thankful that Sif, more or less, pushed her way in front of Thor to pull Amora to her feet.  
“Morning, Thor,” Sif faced him “we have a long day ahead of us, so whatever you have to say, be quick about it.”

Thor was quite aghast at Sif’s harshness, and it seemed she was too, having blanked afterwards and sort-of alarmed at herself for being so blunt.

“I see you’re - “ he fidgeted as he glanced back at Sif for a split second, as if to question the way she’d previously spoken to him “settling into your activities.”

“You mean punishment?” Amora breathed out, now firmly planted opposite him “you can say it.”

“It wasn’t exactly undeserved, Amora.” He replied, eyes darkening.

She simply shrugged in return, having little energy to tackle Thor in another argument. On the rare occasions they did speak, it seems they used up their only niceness towards each other in bed. Anytime after that, words had been bitterly laced. It always ended with him storming off or giving her some below-the-belt remark.

“I just - I was going to talk to Sif,” he snatched a look at Sif who was still emotionless “but if you’re busy…”

Sif perked at Thor’s comment, it seemed they were both awkward with each other after the trip. Amora hadn’t asked Sif about it or how she felt towards Thor post-engagement. Perhaps they were still good friends but the way they acted around each other said otherwise.

“We’ve been here for hours, I’m sore and bored,” Amora attached her sword to her hip “you two feel free to discuss - “ she made lousy gestures with her hands between the two of them as Sif made a noise of agreement “whatever.”

“Fine, but this lost time will have to be made up.” Sif gave Amora an apologetic look, after all she was technically being punished by being Amora’s teacher. The orders were coming from above Sif.  
Amora just rolled her eyes then nodded, pushing past the two of them, pulling out her side plait in a haste. Amora was actually surprised Sif let her go, considering they were only half way through.

“Wait!”

Sif called after her, quickening her pace to catch Amora.

“What?” Amora groaned as she turned round.

“Tomorrow, you need to wear proper clothes.” Sif scanned her with raised brows “trust me, it’ll benefit you more than anyone.”

With her disapproving look at Amora’s leggings and breastplate, it only confirmed Amora’s lacklustre commitment to sparring and her deflection of most rules.

“It will benefit all those - those ugly mugs! More than me, all they do is leer!” Amora yelped as Sif just crossed her arms.

“Oh please,” she sighed “you don’t need the Allfather chasing you for something as ridiculous as not wearing proper gear, that would just be silly.”

Amora made a disapproving noise but she still agreed that she would wear the battle armour the rest of the warrior-maidens wore. Sif backed up to Thor as he started speaking to her. In her honest opinion, Amora would rather spend the next two weeks cleaning the stables than working on her battle stance with Sif. She wasn’t the warrior type.  
There was usually a long scenic route that Amora took to get to her room, it drew out the time so Amora had less conversation to make with Karnilla. However, with her legs aching she took the shortest path, weaving between people as her knotty hair billowed out behind her.

Sigyn, sticking out of the Asgardian crowds because of the monstrosity of the hairstyle on her head, happened to, well, notice Amora passing through the corridors.

“ _You wench!_ ”

Sigyn, baring the same ocean eyes and fairy-like face, gritted her teeth at Amora who halted in her paces. Sigyn was clearly not having a good day, she seemed quite angry - ah, it was possible that her scowling features were related to the meeting she had with the council. The engagements were cut, she was going back to Vanaheim. She was very upset about the whole ordeal.

“Oh please!” Amora said dryly “you can’t still be pissed about that. That was, like, four days ago.”  
It was three, and Amora only knew because Sif had walked into their first session rather chipper. Quite pleased about being husband-less.

“What is wrong with you!” Sigyn hissed “You’ll never marry into a Royal Family, not that one, not any!”

Amora scoffed loudly, quickly checking her nails (emerald nails actually, Loki had painted them for her) as Sigyn insulted her then scanned her, eyes running invasively over every curve and stretch of her body “Those who court a prince can look however they choose, but those who become a queen don’t usually have to squeeze into the inauguration gown…” she lowered her voice as she spoke, words dripping like venom.

Amora knew she was unlike Sif, the woman made of muscle and strength. Sigyn was dainty like a flower, possibly now more like a dagger, she held herself well. Amora had paraded herself variably at feasts, showing questionable amounts of skin.  
The training with Sif wasn’t a fashion event but the skirts (that Amora hadn’t decided to wear yet) and breast plates left little to the imagination. She was so comfortable with herself, not just because men threw compliments towards her wishing to bed her, but she liked her Goddess figure. If she went to Midgard she would be worshipped, if she went to Alfheim (as a woman) she would be courted.

“You’re going to insult me because you are no longer engaged?” Amora rolled her eyes and continued to walk, quite fed up of Sigyn’s pathetic, emotional spiral.

“I’m no fool, Amora.” Another hiss left Sigyn’s mouth as she chased Amora “Thor may be blind, even the Allfather himself...you are so obviously obsessed. It’s rather sad.” Sigyn stepped ahead of Amora so she could glare directly into her eyes “Although with those bovine-like legs of yours, I refuse to believe they are that blind.”

Amora winched at the comment. Sigyn intended to go quite deep with her words and cut into Amora as much as she could. Amora didn’t know another woman like her. She also seemed quite proud of herself but that just led Amora to believe she was slightly insane. Perhaps she would take a diversion, Karnilla didn’t need to see her tonight. But she knew who would.

* * *

Loki threw himself down next to her, water dripping off him from the bath “I thought you were going to join me.”

Amora looked over her shoulder briefly to snatch a look at him, she stood in front of the full-length mirror only in her bustier and satin shorts. Furious tears had spilled down her cheeks as she ventured to his room, dried up by the time he opened the door. He never suspected, only welcomed her with a familiar embrace. No, no woman or man or anyone unconforming would make her feel small, inadequate - especially not about the beauty of her body. But when faced opposite the competition, the direct upgrade...Sigyn was the stranger that was welcomed. Odin was practically enthralled with her - all a tame sorceress, a peacekeeper, a diligent wife...

“What was it? That you liked in Sigyn?” The question wandered about her head after she left Sigyn, and she’d been intending to ask Loki for a while.

“Pardon?” He quickly sat up, tensing slightly as she looked at him, eyes reddening “Why ever do you ask that?”

Amora had already turned back to the mirror, running her delicate fingers over her skin, softly strumming against the lace on the shorts dangling over the top of her thighs. She looked at him through the mirror “I just want to know.”

“Sigyn is going back to Vanaheim tonight,” he started, throwing his legs over the side of the bed “we won’t see her again.”

“Did you want to marry her?” She asked, still following his reflection in the mirror instead of facing him.

Thor had called her beautiful when she lay naked before him. Loki had called her everything, constantly searching for words to say to her - not just blessed comments. She compared it to reciting prose about her body as he lay on her stomach, kissing the curves, poking the softness of the tops of her thighs. Women had forever been jealous, or simply insecure - not confident enough to wear tight-fitting dresses like Amora did. Men and their whispers of lust followed her...but a simple girl from Vanaheim evoked such a sensation, an emotional fury within her.

“No.” He quickly replied, weighing up whether to touch her considering she was coming off so vulnerable. He deemed his fatal touch may push her over the edge.

“Are you lying?”

“Never to you,”

Beating his inner demons, Loki reached out to pull her towards him, feeling her shuffle back to him. One hand squeezed her thigh, forefinger dragging over it as the other remained wrapped around her stomach. Now closer to her ear, he delicately whispered “Did you speak to her?”

“I ran into her earlier.” She replied, an uneasiness emerging within her chest as she sat on him “She didn’t say much, only that I was unworthy of you in particular.”

“I am more unworthy of you then you ever will be of me.” His voice was forever a lie, wobbling on truth. Amora wasn’t easily deceived, her hand came to rest on his fingers softly tracing her stomach as she spoke “Liar.”

“Since when do you care about what silly women have to say about you?”

“I don’t,” she lied “But she’s not wrong, Loki.”

“Oh, I do believe she is.” He ran his fingers along her to reach her chin, directing her face near his. Amora looked back at him, slightly worn and partly crumpled. Loki realised she wasn’t just ruffled or irritated, it was a different expression to the one Sif would cause her.

“She’s a Princess. And beautiful.” Loki could hear the hurt in her voice, no matter how she tried to cover it.

“Ah,“ that delicate smoothness of his voice returned, he could always be suave and charming to dinner party guests. Yet Amora knew she received the real affection, the real charm “but you are divine. Intelligence. An Enchantress. And the difference is, that you’re mine.”

"You have to say that," she raised her brows, but enjoying the affection "you're sleeping with me."

"You make it sound so crude."

"Apologises, _lover._ " she smiled, still looking back at him, watching his emerald eyes dance at the word.

Maybe she had been fooling herself. Maybe it wasn’t just physical, he wasn’t just a steamy make-out session or a reading partner - whatever that meant.

“You are kind.” Her voice lowered to such a whisper that it was like she didn't want him to hear.

She knew he wasn’t those things, she knew all these years that’s not what he was relaying. That’s not what they were. They were compatible, sure...platonic even. They had a matched bond, but even then it was ridiculous to others, a joke. Two terrible people couldn’t devote themselves to each other, they had other people to hurt first.

“No, I’m right.” Loki pressed a kiss to her shoulder, eyes closed as he did so he didn’t witness the single tear rolling down her cheek. A weight like no other on her shoulders, the screams of just be unattached - but how could she unattach herself like before, so effortlessly, if she truly didn’t want to?

* * *

The given punishment hadn’t been terrible. Amora was unskilled in the area but taking out her frustration on Sif was ideal. However, when she complained to Loki (which was every night after she finished, he’d wait after watching her get her ass handed to her by Sif - with the ever-annoying commentary) she made sure to intensify how terrible and awful it was to him.

While her stomach could just about spare Sif, the idea of teacher-and-student making her generally nauseous, Amora favoured her once apprentice as teacher. Loki had offered his services when Amora could only discuss Sif’s endless nagging, and to his surprise, she had agreed to let him teach her a few tricks and help her practice. Just so Sif could erase that forever smugness from her face.

Loki had been on an ego-trip the moment she agreed, obviously.

It had been sort-of ambiguous, sparring and sword-fighting was physically skilful. Not that magic wasn’t, but Amora usually remained pretty while bending water, showing off to Loki. Perhaps he liked her sweat-saturated hair and short skirt, the way she grunted and groaned dramatically after either losing or being ‘impaled’.

“This is hopeless!” Amora threw her sword, again, dramatically to the floor.

They’d travelled to the training yard rather early, the suns were barely awake - and so be it, neither were the warriors that would polish their swords before eating breakfast (or showering). They would usually hog the space in order to show off to the maidens that gathered the edges of the yard, although the maidens were rarely simpering, more or less laughing at the shoddy attempts to impress.

“Right,” Loki wore the same look Amora had when she taught him, confused about how he could just not get it right on the first try. Perhaps that’s why they never could teach other people, not that they tried.

“I think you should lose the sword, the weapons - all of it,” he dropped his own sword, taking steps towards her “you’re not amazing with the sword - you’re better with your hands.”

Amora raised her brows “You would know.”

His cheeks warmed at her retort, smiling down at her as she fixed her hair. Amora was rather impatient and even with her patience that was saved for sorcery, it took Karnilla quite a while to fully extinguish it from her.

“Everytime you hit correctly,” he squeezed her shoulders “I’ll give you a kiss.”

Some positive reinforcement, Amora thought. She looked at him wryly, rolling her eyes - it was easy enough to distract a man, pull his thoughts apart, especially with her feminine charms.

“Where?”

He only rolled his own eyes back at her, whispering close to her ear “When you hit correctly, you’ll see.”

With all her whining as he walked her to and from the training yard each day, she suggested she potentially move some of her things from her room to his. Only because it would be easier for her after spending a night and changing into something that the guards wouldn’t raise their brows out, something that didn’t scream intimacy with a Prince.

The possessions belonging to her scattered around his room were not the indication of an exclusive relationship. It was never enriched enough to be - but Amora hadn't closed herself off to him either, although she had stopped entertaining others. The servants enjoyed a gossip, but rumours falter quickly with no evidence, however stumbling out of the second Prince's room with the previous evenings dress on didn't exactly diffuse hearsay. Supposedly, she wasn't doing herself any favours in that aspect and asked (ordered) Loki to help carry her things from her room to his.

"You know," he started, heaving her trunk into his arms "some would suggest this is where the obsession starts."

"Yours with me? Yes, I agree." Amora enjoyed his sarcastic comments, only when they weren't directed at her. She could laugh perhaps, they’d been in each other’s lives since they were young adults, barely teenagers and then young lovers.

"Don't you think people will take this," he nodded towards her trunk (it was only full of dresses so it had no reason to be so weighted) "as something to talk about?"

"I'd rather they stopped talking, that's why I need things that aren't a feast gown or your robes to wear when I leave your chambers in the morning."

"Ah, maybe if you stopped leaving at such hours they would stop gossiping?"

"That sounds like you would prefer my presence was never there in the first place, or you would rather me confined to your chambers for eternity."

"Hm, I'll let you decide that one." He winked at her and gave a sly smile, almost struggling with the trunk as she carried her bags that were kicking at her ankles.

"Still, it won't stop Sif pestering the maids for information." Amora rolled her eyes "or paying..."  
Sif had a vague idea about Amora’s relationship with Loki, and she was actually rather difficult to read. She made it unknown whether she definitely gathered evidence of Amora’s romantic habits - Amora wasn’t even sure if Sif knew about Thor, even if it was moons ago. Thor had suddenly become suspicious, the added satire commentary Fandral would give to Loki about Amora in Thor’s presence didn’t help.

Loki snorted "Surely that's beneath her."

"It is," Amora continued, and she believed it "but not Thor."

"You truly believe Thor is using Sif to search for gossip?" At this point his head turned sharply to look at her, analysing her features.

"Well, I'm sure he wants to know what his little brother is doing, or who he is doing..." Amora raised her eyebrow at him "and he isn't exactly receiving that information from you?"

Loki had never mentioned Amora’s one-night affair with Thor. Amora brought it up on a single occasion, only delivering the details she deemed necessary - she wanted Loki to know that they weren’t on the best of times when she slept with his brother, not that it excused it. All she truly knew, is that Loki didn’t hold back in giving Thor a glorious bruise below his eye. But many parties, including Sif, were unsure of how that mark came to be.

"No, he isn't." Loki grimaced, but a proud look appeared on his face as well, as if he shared the best kept secret with Amora and Thor had absolutely no chance of finding out "he could ask."  
"What would you tell him?"

"I don't know." He hummed "you're not the type of maiden to bring to a feast on ones arm."

"Oh," she pretended to look horribly insulted, swinging her arm back so the bag in her hand hit his leg "maybe I will reply to Skurge's offer after all, for tomorrow's ball that is."

"I didn't think his offer was anything else but a mere invitation," he said "I thought you'd let him suffer longer. You do enjoy a large warrior pining after you."

Amora faced forward again, the image of Thor purposely appearing in her head after his directed mention. At least Loki could joke about it. But that was a long time ago. Skurge was more obvious in his conquest, and direct. Men of her refined taste walked (or ran) straight to her upon the first meeting. Thor was aloof in the beginning, and then their intimacy was sworn a secret, perhaps he’d gotten a little jealous that the secret she shared with Loki wasn’t out of shame.

"I'll take you," he said after a few minutes of silence. They'd reached his room and the guards outside diverted their eyes just in case the young sorcerers believed them to be caving interest, as they would most certainly be victim to an ugly casting if so.

"You'll take me where?" She asked once the door had shut behind them. The trunk ended up sitting on the ottoman, the actual thump of the box reminded Amora exactly how many dresses she'd brought. She probably could've left some in her own room…

"To the ball." He turned to face her, usually when asking a woman to a dance, men would appear less cocky and more sheepish. Especially if the woman was Amora. Loki appeared as if she'd just accepted his hand in marriage.

"Didn't you just say I was a revolting date and my company beside your family would disgrace you?”

"Yes I do remember those exact words leaving my lips." He scoffed, watching her fold her arms and stride past him towards her trunk. Loki couldn't be straight-forward and clear, he had to dance around things not in fear of what to say but simply to provoke her, or charm. It depended on the day.

"I'll take you to the ball, it wouldn't hurt, would it? I mean, we’ve always been around each other at these dreadful parties. What’s the difference with you being my date?” With her back to him, his hands found her waist, pulling her gently to him "you could wear one of those." He took the moment to gesture to selection of outfits she was sorting through.

"It wouldn't hurt for us to share a few dances as we have done in the past, but to both rile Thor and confirm to your father of what those silly servants think of us?"

"If you say yes, they will see us lovingly dancing together yet have no reason to believe we are any more than very good _friends_." He said, pausing to make his way to her front to her dismay, wanting to focus on organising her clothes "I do not care for servant chatter, but it will be entertaining to watch Sif correlate to Thor that she most definitely heard you were leaving my room," she'd forgotten about the trunk as he leaned in closer to her, lips barely touching hers, honestly the man could entertain "all while we share nothing but a - " she wanted to bring her mouth on his but he drew it out (as usual) and brushed her lips " _dance_."

The suddenness of him pulling away almost give her whiplash. Seriously. Loki knew all her quirks and traits, well most of them, and he especially knew she despised being teased - preferring to be the teaser. His laugh was coming from the other end of the room, he'd traipsed away from her with a stupid smug grin on his face.

Of course, he wasn't looking at her so didn't have a chance to deflect the dress she sent in his direction. Without even the use of magic, she was fully capable of launching a heavily-jewelled dress across the room. The self-satisfied smirk crawled onto her face as she heard his grunt, the dress smacking into the back of his head as she prowled towards him.

"Lovely, but it's not really my colour." He chuckled, feeling her siding up to him "of course, it will be fine on you tomorrow."

"I won't do just fine, Loki." She said, grabbing the dress off him, pressing fingers against his cheek "I'll do far better, obviously."

" _Obviously._ " Taking her hand off his face, he held it in front of him, giving her the most adorable look he could fathom "so you accept?"

"Aye, I suppose so." She snatched her hand back once he placed a dramatic kiss on it - how the smallest theatrics gave him the biggest thrills!

"Good." he ran his eyes over her, then met her gaze "this is definitely a good idea."

* * *

Amora had insisted on being far better than fine, so enlisted her only female friend. Well, _sort-of_ friend. To assist her.

While Sif was a narc, and a pest when acting as the go-between for Thor. When she put her own brain to work, she was rather decent. Amora didn’t speak to many of the women in the palace - they were either handmaidens, warriors or visitors. And there were absolutely no other sorcerers. Karnilla didn’t count.

Supposedly, she was Amora’s only female friend, that was her own age. However, Amora refrained from letting people into her inner sanctum, the world she created for herself that shunned anyone that tried penetrating. It could be said that Loki broke in slightly but she allowed that sparingly.

She wasn’t too sure of the knowledge Sif held when it came to her, Thor seemed to be more bitchy than ever as she sometimes slid a comment in that would hopefully open up a revealing dialogue during sparring matches with Amora. Amora never reciprocated, unless hitting Sif squarely on the nose ‘accidentally’ counted. Sif had an odd type of agenda, if she heard, witnessed or sourced gossip then it would most certainly travel to Thor, however the sparse information shared after the whole incident in Alfheim...hadn’t reached Thor.

“What about this?” Sif lifted, rather aggressively, a pale pink dress from Amora’s closet.

Amora scrunched her nose up “No…” she rummaged through the drawers, throwing out items she immediately rejected, even if she hadn’t worn them before.

She heard Sif groan as she grew tired, which was normal when doing any other activity besides wrestling with warriors.

“There’s about a hundred dresses in here, and you’ve worn about five. Why are you being so - “

“None of these will work.” Amora hissed, ignoring Sif as she paced the room. Sif threw her hands up in frustration as she lent back into the chair.

Dresses and gowns were covering every surface, there were a pile on Sif’s lap and one set aside that Sif was going to wear. It was Amora’s way of forcing her to stay and help her.

“We need to go into town.”

“ _We?_ ” Sif raised her brow after her long drawn out sigh.

“It’s not your company I’m after, I need someone to hold the bags.” Amora grinned, grabbing her cloak.

* * *

Sif turned on Amora’s command, a dark loose navy emphasising her body, a lower skirt extending out behind her. While she spun, silver jewels sparkled on her dress and in her hair. Amora tapped her fingers against the wooden vanity, a smile emerging.

“Maybe Thor will marry you, after all.” Amora scanned Sif, and whether it was because she was donned in Amora’s dress or not, she still looked beautiful.

“I think that’s the nicest comment you’ve ever made to me,” Sif laughed at the now absurdity, brushing her dress over as she went to stand in front of the full length mirror “actually, I think that’s the only nice thing you’ve said to me.”

“True, but alas it’s to do with my good mood, I suppose.” Amora painted her lips as she smiled at her own mirror.

“Goodness, you are happy. You haven’t said one negative thing all night,” Sif looked over her shoulder at Amora “why ever are you so pleased?”  
Undeniably and only to herself, Amora was rather excited, somewhat giddy, about the evening ahead.

“Nothing.”

“Wouldn’t be the same reason as to why you’re - “ Sif now stood next to Amora, occupying the same mirror as she gestured to her more magnificent attire “ - putting in more effort than normal?”

Karnilla usually leaned over Amora as she coloured her cheeks or rubbed powder into her face and down her neck. She always started with a speech about something Amora had gotten into trouble for the same day, ending with a disapproving glance up and down Amora through the mirror. Now, Sif stood where she usually did, acting more motherly than Karnilla would. Acting like someone that cared about her.

Sif was waiting on a reply as Amora carefully applied mascara then stretched both sides of her neck to check her complexion, she tutted “I don’t think Loki will care if your make up falters.”

Amora glared at Sif through the mirror “I have no idea what you mean.”

“I mean nothing,” Sif played with the sparkly bracelet clasped round her wrist “you always go to the feasts with him, and every time, he’s never cared what you look like. Or end up looking like.”

A hotness came over Amora as Sif recalled a memory she hadn’t remembered so fondly. When she drank a little too much and ended up passed out in Loki’s bed, while she was sure Sif had sparse detail regarding but Amora believed Sif was the reason she downed more than the bottle. Which is what she made sure to remind her of.

“I’m pretty sure you were the reason I downed more than the bottle.” Amora pushed the drawers closed on the vanity, then ascended across the room towards the nightstand.

“More than four bottles, actually,” Sif followed her while she laughed “did you end up hanging your head out of his window?”

Amora threw her a mean glance to conceal her embarrassed one “I fell asleep, just. After trying to coerce him into bed, apparently.” Amora snorted to herself as she sprayed perfume over her, the scent of vanilla and honey wafting.

She didn’t even see Sif’s mouth hanging open, only hearing the shock in her voice which made her laugh all the more “Amora!”

“It’s not as if you haven’t thought twice about Thor, or - “ she settled her laughs as Sif joined her side.  
“So it was a coherent thought, you persuading Loki to join you in the sheets?” Sif glanced at her in the mirror, watching her turn red. Amora only spat her, knowing Sif wouldn’t go as far in their verbal battles as she would.

“Yes Sif, coherent after four bottles in two hours.” Amora’s arm jutted sharply into Sif’s side, softer than the likes of their sparring matches. Although Sif’s jewellery shook as she regained her posture “Besides, I don’t doubt you’ve had only drunk thoughts about Thor.”

Amora had been around Sif during her engagement to Thor. It was actually exceptional the two resumed their pally friendship, they couldn’t have been more - well, _less_ \- fond of each other. Sif was a wife pawn and for Thor, it seemed like a test. Even the other warriors noticed it. Although, a certain heat came between them as Sif stalled for an answer.

“Well, have you?” Amora pressed, wondering if Sif truly catered for the liking of her faux husband.  
“Have _you?_ ” Sif asked back, staring Amora down through the mirror until she looked away. Perhaps Amora had spent too much time with Sif, but she was the first to catch onto whatever Amora was hiding with Loki.

“I asked first.” She replied.

“Maybe.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is, it’s just not the one you want?” Sif paused as she fiddled with her earrings “Fine. Twice.”

“ _Twice?_ ” Amora screwed up her face after dramatising a gasp, realising what Sif referred to “Come back for more did he?”

“Enough. I’ll spare the detail but it was before the betrothals...which sort-of had the opposite effect.”

“Lovely.”

“ _So?_ ”

Amora unconsciously bit her bottom lip, wondering whether the drink she and Sif shared while beautifying themselves was affecting her decisions. And her friendliness.

“I feel like your silence is an answer.”

“It is, and it’s an indefinite no.” Amora lowered her eyes over Sif “if I had conquests, I would make sure everyone knew. You know I’m proud like that.”

“Ah, so nothing between you two all these years?”

“You best believe if I simply kissed Loki I would make sure the entirety of Asgard knew.” Amora inhaled sharply “You know how I like to rile Odin.”

“You shouldn’t though, the Allfather isn’t one for childish manners and even fooling with his son would get you into trouble?” Sif and her annoying alliance to the throne had always irritated Amora.

“But not you?” She quipped, scoffing after seeing Sif roll her eyes, a bitter look sweeping her face.  
“Well, you’re part of the royal scheme - you’re Karnilla’s apprentice, you’ll be the royal Enchantress one day. You do know fraternising with the princes would have you stripped of your title?”

“I don’t have a title yet,” Amora shrugged “and if you hope to be Asgard’s finest warrior one day, shouldn’t you have thought twice about bedding Thor?”

“It doesn’t affect me the same way it would you.” Sif wasn’t wrong, Karnilla had drilled the same speech into her many times before.

Yet, Amora still burned at her words, hastily throwing her arms across her chest, moments of their shared day quickly fading to nothing “Why do you care so much about what I do?”

Sif almost reached for Amora’s hand, but she didn’t. Instead breathing in deeply and frustratedly pinching her nose before she spoke “I’m only looking out - so, is something going on? Amora, I won’t tell but...you ought to - “

“Yes.” Amora flashed her teeth at her, a smile running onto her lips “I slept with Thor.”

She waited for a devastating reaction, but Sif’s mouth only parted slightly. Amora walked away, stepping into her golden shoes lying amok next to her bed. Sif was left staring into the mirror, counting her features as she pulled her lips back together.

Supposedly she only needed Sif to carry the bags after all.

* * *

The stars dressed the sky like a maiden to a warrior. Complementing one another, probably continuously moving, and come tomorrow morning, will be unnoticeable from one another. Although, the stars and the sky spend the entire night together.

Amora had gotten sick of the great hall, it was golden and grand, all the feasts took place there. Yet it was stuffy and sickly at the same time. Odin had ordered the large doors leading to the gardens should be opened, inviting the night sky into the hall both for entertainment and art for the guests. Amora knew this was Frigga’s idea though.

While remaining absolutely platonic throughout the evening, especially when Thor cosied up to them, Amora and Loki wandered a secluded area in the gardens lit by the beaming stars. There was a certain murmur in the bushes that they both ignored, simply led to be excited guests having too much fun.

“Take my hand, ‘mora.” Loki slid his linked arm out of Amora’s then held up his open hand, smiling at her.

“Oooh, I like it when you’re insistent.” She squeezed his hand once she intertwined their fingers.

The bottom of her golden skirt trailed over the stone pathway, “You look good, by the way,” she murmured as he chuckled and thanked her.

One of his arms snaked around her waist, pulling her into him as they both came to a stop. Her heart became rapid in her chest, usually it refrained from such paces. There was just a different air tonight, sometimes stifling her breathing.

“There is no one comparable to you in that room.” He whispered, eyes and hands wandering over her. Is he feeling it too?

Amora threw her head back, a luxurious type of laugh escaping her “Well, am I rather divine, aren’t I?”

“Quite.” He placed a delicate kiss on her revealed neck, slowly pulling her back in.

“I have something for you,” he said after kissing her on the cheek, feeling the heat on her face.  
Amora leaned back in surprise, it wasn’t unusual for him to gift her with books, scrolls or even trinket-type things that she placed around her room.

He’d said the same line months before…

_“I have something for you.”_

_Amora lifted her head from his chest, reclining back with a puzzled expression. After discussions between sheets, they’d wandered into personal affairs and he’d questioned her birthday._

_“I don’t know,” she replied, a rush of pink settling on her face “it’s just not something I know…”_

_“Oh,” he hadn’t said anything else, and Amora was unsure of how to take it. The next day confirmed that the goodness in him, was the purest type._

_“Today,” he’d kissed her cheek and pulled her into a secluded spot in the library they knew all too well “today is your birthday.”_

_“Wait,” she said confused “how do you - “_

_“I don’t,” he shrugged, fumbling in his pocket for something “I decided. It’s only a day. So, happy birthday.”_

_Amora, the sudden blushing now one of her common characteristics, stared at him unsure of whether it was a cruel, misguided joke or if he was serious. The box that appeared from his pocket confirmed that he was in fact serious._

_“Here,” he placed it on Amora’s palm, it was small and light. The public setting uneased her, in case others were lurking in the shadows, waiting to jump out and laugh._

_She forced the processing ideas out of her head as she opened the fair-coloured box, revealing a delicate, shining silver band with tiny emeralds dotted throughout._

_Amora’s eyes flashed as she looked down at the ring, a feeling so foreign inside of her that her eyes swelled up._

_Blinking back tears, she softly said “Thank you.”_  
_Once again, that feeling emerged and swirled inside her._

_The garden was a beautiful scenic setting, Amora grinned as Loki, similarly to the last time, grasped a small box between his fingers, an excited smile on his face._

_“You should stop giving me things, I think people will get ideas…” she whispered as she pressed closer to him, fingers wandering the box clasped in his hand “this better not be an engagement gift…”_

_He began laughing as his hand stroked her face “Why ever not? With the children on the way, the house - “_

_Amora swatted his shoulder as she laughed “Oh for gods - “_

_He kissed her before she could finish, pressing their lips together immediately as he held her face, tentatively stroking with his thumb under her eyes. After a moment they broke apart, and Loki handed her the box._

_“Open it, my precious other-worldly darling.”_

_“Of course, my handsome enchanting prince.”_

_An emerald necklace hung by a thin dark band, glistening as it caught the light of the stars._

_“Are you going to cry again?” He said with a low laugh, pulling her in for another brief kiss._

_“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she handed him the necklace and turned, lifting up her hair so he could place the necklace on it._

_The day after she’d spent her ‘birthday’ with Loki, she played on the affection that was a side effect of the blissful time they shared. He’d done his best at making it different to all the other days they’d spent together, which was a challenge. For once, they were in her room, Amora was braiding her hair and Loki, almost asleep on her bed but still managing to read passages from a book out loud._

_“I have something for you, Lucky.” She spoke delicately as she finished braiding, but she felt his sudden alertness._

_The book quickly slammed shut and fell onto his chest as she crawled over to him, pausing to kiss his cheek as she reached to the nightstand._

_“Whatever could this be,” he said in a sing-song voice, brushing his fingers along her braid._

_Amora reached her hand into the nightstand drawer, rummaging for something she’d placed there earlier in the day, waiting for the right moment. Loki sat up against the headboard as she leaned back into him, hiding whatever she had between her hands._

_“It’s not as nice as a ring.” She whispered close to his face as he made a tutting sound. Drumming her fingers against the gift, she motioned for a kiss before handing it to him._

_“Can I open it?” He asked, holding the envelope gently, flipping both sides only to find it blank._

_“No,” his expression ceased as confusion overcame him._

_“I can’t open it?”_

_“Not yet.”_

_“When can I?”_

_“You will know when.”_

_“Beautifully poetic of you there, ‘mora.” He looked at the envelope again, as if he could read it anyway through the paper “so, I can open it, whenever I feel it is right?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“What if I feel it’s right right this moment?”_

_“Then you can open it,” she grinned, running her fingers over his shirt, then titled her head “Or you can savour it, and wait.”_

_“For all I know this could be blank,” he drew out a long sigh, dramatising the ordeal “you could truly be toying with my precious heart.”_

_“True.”_

_“Hmm.” He hummed, flipping the envelope once again before placing it delicately on the nightstand “I suppose I’ll wait.”_

_His arms wrapped around her as he thanked her, kissing the top of her head._

_“I have one thing you can have right this moment...”_

_“Oh, truly?”_

_“You can open this one right now.”_

_“Maybe I’ll wait until it’s absolutely right.” He teased, hands nearing her dressing gown tie._

_“Of course,” she grew excited “I’ll be here all night…”_

The necklace felt heavy sitting on her collarbones, but it felt right. Like the missing piece to a puzzle finally sorted and fixed, completing the image. Her hand floated before joining Loki’s again, bringing his to her lips to place a kiss on it.

She didn’t miss the blush his cheeks printed, nor the shuffle of his feet “Thank you, Loki.”

With his hand hovering near her face, he gently caressed her cheek before wrapping both arms around her, kissing her softly. She felt his mouth form a smile and she didn’t open her eyes to double-check, every tense bone in her body had softened, every anxious nerve stopped. The only erratic pace she allowed was her beating heart.

* * *

Amora dropped her bag in the changing area, pulling her sweater (not her sweater) over her head as she readied her breastplate and skirt to change into. Sif was behind a screen, changing herself. She appeared quickly as she heard Amora, a face like a slapped hind as she crossed her arms aggressively.

Obviously, there had been zero words spoken between them since their spat - Amora’s revelation hurting Sif. Well, she assumed. Amora didn’t wait around to hear another emotional monologue instead deciding to fraternise with the royals. Well, one in particular.

“Oh, what now?” Amora huffed as Sif made it apparent the air coming out her nostrils was heated “Thor been bitching again?”

“Isn’t that Loki’s sweater?” That accusatory tone had returned once again, Sif drew her eyes back to Amora in an ugly stare.

Amora deliberately turned to glance at the crumpled sweater she’d thrown down then look back at Sif without an ounce of guilt “I didn’t realise you looked at him so closely. _How sweet.”_

“If anything is happening - Amora, I don’t think you realise - “ Sif sighed “ - if you were just a little more discreet about - “

“ _Discreet?”_ Amora repeated “Do you think you can teach me about that, rolling in the haystacks with Thor?”

She enjoyed that Sif looked rather alarmed that she knew that. Drunk Loki was rather exceptional at slipping secrets, and Amora would usually never use them until it served her severely well.

“You know that the whole situation is different, especially after Alfheim, Sigyn…” Sif began “You will have no issue with me, maybe even Frigga would pretend to take no notice - but when someone that doesn’t like it finds out - “

“Oh, I have your good faith now? Whatabout when you were trying to sell me out to Odin?”

“I never went through - if the Allfather found out about you and Thor, and then you - “ Sif thumbed her sword restlessly, tossing it between her hands as Amora lazily threw her arms up, then spoke in a sing-song voice “Something tells me this is truly none of your concern. Wait, it’s me. I’m telling you, this is none of your concern.”

“You don’t have to make everything so difficult for yourself, you know that?” Sif spat, dropping her sword on the ground “The realm doesn’t work against you, Amora. No matter how much you feel it does…”

“Shut up, Sif.” Amora was riled as she strolled towards the training area, a few skips from the changing screens. Sif was quick in following behind, muttering some kind of curse as she did.

“You think you have a different energy, that you’re above everyone else - Odin doesn’t dislike you, you allow yourself to believe such things.”  
Amora laughed, she realised Sif referred to Odin as simply Odin so it must’ve been a desperate stretch for conversation “Sif, you stick to whacking men with swords and I’ll refrain from poking my nose in your business.”

“You’re lucky to live within this palace, to study under someone as talented as Karnilla - to have good company, and you think if you push people away with catty commentary and tricks, then they actually will turn against you?” Sif continued “because they will. You can’t pretend everyone hated you from the start, even if that’s in your own narrative. Who cares if you prefer spells to sparring, if you prefer Loki to Thor. At least you have him.”

Amora pulled a face “ _Is the little maiden sad she’s no longer gonna marry Thor?_ ”

Sif struck Amora across the face, both maidens were armed with sword and shield, and the same pissed-off look. With a winch, Amora snapped her head back to Sif, and retorted with a growl.  
“Maybe I’m the only one that does prefer spells and magic - do you see a training ground for that here? Do you think it comes down to preference? Do you think if Odin had the chance to send me away, cast me out and away from his sons that he wouldn’t?” Amora brandished her sword, using the correct stance as her words grew with volume “Are you so blind by your love for Thor that you mistake his bitchiness for concern?”

For the first time, she correctly swung her sword towards Sif, resulting in Sif side-stepping and lifting her own sword. Amora enjoyed the surprised look on her face before it was hidden by her shield.

“Sif, every once in a while, you choke up this conversation - and we both know it’s directly from Thor - “ Sif quickly disarmed Amora after a couple swings, her sword slid across the floor as Sif dropped her shield to bring up her leg “who doesn’t have the guts to speak directly to me!”

Amora tried blocking Sif’s move but her leg struck her midsection “You really aren’t this strong warrior everyone thinks you are, your courage is dismantled easily by Thor’s ego - or his orders!”  
Amora doubled over at the pain as she hissed out her last comment, gripping her midsection as if that was going to stop both the bruising and pain.

“You’re the one that _lied_ to me! I got punished for what you intended! It wasn’t about proving yourself, it was about proving Odin wrong, that you are an unworthy wife because - “ Amora spluttered, still grasping her midsection “ - because causing distress in another realm is not a considerable part of the inauguration speech!”

“So there was _nothing_ beneficial to you in this? Sigyn scrapped, sent back to Vanaheim...you truly think these actions would be unaccounted for?” Sif growled “The brothers of Asgard cannot be involved in such a predicament and still expect to call a Vanaheim princess sister!”

“You spend all your time frolicking in that damned yard pretending to be like all the boys, thinking you’re something special and different because you handle swords instead of _fucking_ flowers!” Amora panted heavily at her own speech, her body enraged as Sif kicked her foot to her already tender midsection, sending her to the ground.

“If I were you, I would hold my tongue if I didn’t know how to disarm someone.” Sif has never been so angry in Amora’s presence before, she was seething as she leaned over Amora “I may wield swords but you sink your claws into every scroll you can find, hoping to impress the master of mischief himself!”

“You’re acting as if swords and shields are the only way to deflect,” Amora looked up at her through her messy hair, before conjuring a spell to send Sif flying across the room, she yelled “And regarding - “

“Amora.”

Of course Karnilla appeared the moment Amora’s emerald magic encircled Sif. Amora threw her head back with a groan, what was Karnilla even doing lurking around the training yard so late?  
Karnilla walked to Amora’s front, kicking the shield on the floor that was in her way, as if she couldn’t just step away from it. Her face mirrored shock as Amora shrugged her hand that came to rest on her shoulder.

Karnilla appeared so enraged that her mouth opened to speak to Amora, but then she turned away to apologise to Sif, who was standing further from them but seemingly without a scratch on her.  
“Lady Sif, I do apologise on behalf of Amora - “

“No, it is quite alright. That was the last of our sessions, so we have little reason to speak to each other again.” Sif glared at Amora “Which I’m thankful for.”

With a polite nod to Karnilla, Sif searched for her sword and shield, her body enraged as she did. Amora was still reeling, her brain wracked and distorted - but then seconds later her feet were dragging her towards Sif.

“Wait,” Sif turned sharply after hearing Amora’s call, she only glared at her as Amora slipped from Karnilla and slowly walked towards Sif “the other night - when we were getting ready,” Amora lowered her voice to almost a whisper to avoid Karnilla’s prying ears “why did you ask all those questions - about - “ her eyes suddenly darted to Sif’s, locked “ - did Thor ask you to?”

Amora knew Sif was the go-between, but she was always unsure if Sif relayed the information she sneaked - because she had held her tongue in Alfheim. But now Sif, wearing a rare expression under the honesty portrayed on her face, nodded “He did. I’m his friend. Before yours. I told him.”

Sif stepped towards Amora, slightly above her in her heavy boots “I told him you were sleeping with his brother.”

Sif temporarily stepped backwards possibly frightened of being cursed if she turned her back to Amora. Leaving Amora and Karnilla alone in the training yard, empty and isolated. Amora hissed “fuck.” then finished muttering more silent curse words that Karnilla probably had never heard before. She felt Karnilla’s body behind her, close enough that she felt her hot breath on her neck.

“You are wild,” she whispered, eyes lowered to the floor as Amora deliberately stretched her neck so that she had no vision of her teacher.

“Shall I pack my bags, head back to the hellhole you bought me from?” She snarled, the evening light dark on her face.

“There are no lessons tomorrow, just - “ Karnilla sighed “ - take a day...Perhaps stay with Loki tonight.”

“ _What?_ ” Amora’s eyes flashed to no one, the empty space she stared into became blurred. She wanted Karnilla to smack her over the head or berate her as usual, the way her voice sounded was new. If Amora didn’t work hard, she got double lessons. If she was untameable, she was reined in more. Karnilla was constantly on her back, reminding her to behave and to fix herself. Amora didn’t look at Karnilla, but she knew if she looked she would combust into anger or tears.

* * *

Amora had gone to Loki that night. She had barely seen him with her ridiculous sparring timetable keeping them apart (probably a bonus for Odin). The guard outside had let her in, questionable since she held a large sword, but he’d recognised her and there was some kind of united air between them. Palace guard weren’t inclined to gossip the same way the servants were. Also, palace guards weren’t meant to let just anyone in, especially in the royal quarters and especially if the person wasn’t in. Yet, she sat in his empty room waiting, praying that he hadn’t fallen asleep in the library like many times before, for she had to be with someone at that moment. The only good thing about Loki’s lateness was that she could shed a few silent tears to herself, as she wasn’t overly fond of sharing that with Loki. No matter how long they’d been friends.

“And to whom do I have to thank to have you back in my presence?”

Amora, albeit a little too quickly, bolted from the chair she herself had almost passed out in. Loki’s comment was light-hearted but as she pressed herself against him, he became somewhat concerned.

“Are you alright?” His hands rested on her back as he pulled back to look at her “you aren’t one for immediate affection.”

“Can I stay here?” She muttered against his tunic, knowing fine-well she never had to ask. All she truly wanted was sleep and company, she didn’t want to talk about anything.

Amora told him just that as she changed out of her armour into one of his shirts (even though she had brought half of her room to his, including nightdresses, she refused them in favour of wearing his clothes) and he acknowledged that she was pissed about Karnilla and Sif, so didn’t press further. Insisting on checking her injuries, he’d persuaded her to lie down while she ranted as his hands travelled over her.

Amora spent far more time with Loki in his chambers than she had in awhile. Karnilla still expected her for lessons and she still went, on time, but always returned to the royal quarters. Their friendship lasted more than anything else in her life, unless she counted her fractured relationship with Karnilla, her anti-mother figure. Amora spent years sharing her spells, secrets and bed with Loki, but she’d come to find his layers were easily removable as they spent such frequent time together. He was affectionate, especially when she arrived in her heaps of shrewd emotion. He would do anything to cheer her up, or impress her. Amora had, supposedly, let down some of her own walls as well.

Loki had learnt her quirks like unintentionally singing as she performed mundane tasks like brushing her hair. The songs were Nornheim children's tunes, from a place she rarely spoke of unless she was safe, under the sheets and almost falling asleep, whispering the things she remembered to him. Until she didn't, catching up with herself and stopping herself from divulging any further, and he never persisted with her to go on.

He knew even with the most tentative touch to her hip bones she would buckle and curl up, the most unusual places she found to be ticklish. There were lines along her thighs that he deemed to be scars, possibly from divination spells gone wrong but he never prompted her to explain in case they were intentionally engraved by someone who, well, must've feared nothing if they dared harm the Enchantress.

The conversation with Sif didn't, in any realm, upset her, but it left a sour feeling in her stomach. She had little time for Sif when she was being a lovestruck maiden, but absolutely no time for her lectures which came straight from Thor's bitching.

While she wasn’t upset...the truth from Sif confirming that their day dressing for the ball came down to a request from Thor to find out if his brother was screwing the Enchantress - well, she was upset. Amora wholeheartedly preferred Warrior Sif; the one wielding her sword day and night, the one attached to the training yard like no other warrior and the one that was actually bearable to converse with. Sif probably shared her bed with that beloved sword of hers, wishing it was the Asgardian Prince. Amora didn't have to wish, it became obvious she was spending more nights in the Royal chambers as she stopped finding idiotic and sometimes dangerous ways to escape unseen (scaling the balcony in an expensive dress to reach the below floor was a foolish idea and she had grazes on her legs to prove it). She hadn’t told Loki that Sif had supposedly snitched on them to Thor. Instead she gathered the joy in the time they spent together, they’d been so stabilised since the confusing path to their...whatever they had, had been erased. Most mornings she rose early, and began her grooming routine which she would normally do in the privacy of her own room but felt somewhat comfortable enough in Loki's presence to paint on her makeup (he watched), style her hair (he tried to learn the intricate braids and failed) or enjoy a long soak in his much more lavish bathtub (he sometimes joined).

Amora was complaining. About Sif. Again.  
Loki was listening to her, not incredibly attentively, but still there for immoral support. Her fingers were running up and down his arm, the only part of him beside his head - currently on her chest - not concealed by the sheets.

"Well, it seems she's really got under your skin," he grinned, pressing a kiss to her collarbone "do you think she's jealous of me?"

Amora brought her hand away from his arm to gently swat his head, causing him to just press more kisses on her. Amora responded to the affection the only way she knew how: deflection. The response from him was not of appreciation as he shoved her onto her back, throwing an arm over her so she remained immobile.

"I think she's jealous of anyone that can hold a conversation with Thor. After all, her on-and-off relationship with him must be straining her." She answered after their tussle “One day, she loathes him and his ways. The next, she lays down at his feet. A doormat, I suppose.” He laughed. It was so soothing, so exposing - when he laughed it felt like a secret, something he wouldn't share in public so often as he did with Amora. She liked that.

"Ah, so not jealous of you then." He was still hovering over her, arm clamped around her as if she would slip away at the lightest release. Managing to bring her hand to his face, she began lazily running her fingers through the hair that had fallen past his face.

"Maybe she wants both Princes for herself." Amora gave him a provocative look, fluttering her lashes seductively, moving her hands from those unstyled dark curls to his face. It was a risqué comment, but Loki knew Amora only had eyes for him.

"That's something I truly don't need to think about," He allowed her to pull him closer, as he continued grazing her edges with his hands, gently trailing along her soft skin as she returned encouraging looks.

"I don't suppose I'll find you'll gift her all my clothes, will I?" Her fingers brushed over his mouth, nails prodding into his lip "if she suddenly declares her love for you. And you leave me. _Deserted._ Scorned even."

"Of course not," He smiled after her fingers received a delicate kiss "I'll buy her new ones."  
Loki should've expected the not-so-gentle shove, but the surprise across his features was apparent before he burst into chuckles.

"You seem to have such warped fantasies, you know."

Amora tutted "I'm just very open, you see."

"Oh, I know."

"I'm nothing like Sif,"

"No."

"Or Sigyn."

"Definitely not."

"Or - "

He clearly didn't care for whoever's name was next, instead pressing his mouth to hers, enjoying the brief inhale she exhibited as she grabbed his head and passionately kissed him back. It was a warm, enveloping kiss. Letting herself retreat slightly into the pillow allowed him to place one hand on the side of her head in order to lead the kiss, she was contempt with following sometimes... The other remained skirting around her sides. Those perilous hands of his were working their way round her body, stroking up and down her and then squeezing.

The rush of discomfort ran up her spine as she gasped, not pleasurably, but the sudden stroke of pain erupting from her side startled her.  
"What's wrong?" Loki reeled back, as if it was him causing the pain, and then pulled the sheet down to cast a look at whatever was hurting “Are you alright?”

"Oh, _ouch._ " He sucked his teeth after gazing down at the purple bruise on her hip, ugly marks decorating the surface.

Amora reached down to rub her hands on the mark, as if it would disappear the harder she pressed.

“Bloody Sif.”

“I can heal it if you let me,“ Loki started, genuinely sympathising with Amora who just disregarded his care.

“No, it’s fine.” She placed her hands back on his face and pulled him closer “where were we?”  
He allowed himself to lean back into Amora and feel her warmth, her touch but persisted “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

Kissing him, she scoffed and muttered against his mouth “Oh, it wouldn’t be fun then.”

Then she felt that lovely laugh against her lips, softening as he pressed messy kisses around her face.

“No, I suppose it wouldn’t.”

* * *

Frigga was the most intelligent woman Amora has met in Asgard. Including Karnilla. Frigga held such high regard for intellect but also care; she was insistent in order to be clever you had to care, that emotions were depictions of intelligence and not weak rebuttals like Odin had taught his sons as such.

Amora had learnt this while sharing breakfast with Frigga in the gardens of the palace. After spending the night in the Royal chambers of the palace again, waking up with Loki in her arms again, he had nonchalantly muttered against her skin "Oh I forgot to mention - my mother wants to have breakfast with you." As if he was simply telling her about a book or scroll he'd found.  
Amora’s flurry of blonde hair shot up around her as she did, bashing Loki partly in the process "Whatever reason does she have to want to see me?”

"Does she need a reason?"

"She does, yes."

"She was impressed with you at the feast the other night, I believe. Although, it could have something to do with that spat with Sif..."

"Loki, what are people going to say! What is your father going to say!" Amora’s hissed “we’re trying to be...unseen, and - discreet.”

 _Fuck_ , curse Sif for that damned word.

"For a girl who goes on about not caring what others think, you seem to care awfully about what others think." Loki tried to relax her, rubbing her arms as she continued to stress.

"This is not like Sif being bratty towards me," she sat up, unintentionally forcing him off her "If Sif or even your damned brother has - I’m not your girlfriend! Why would she want to speak to me?”

"Well, I'm not your boyfriend." He replied after being cast away from her, he inclined his head as he spoke "but she does, for whatever reason. Could be that the maids informed her you relocated the entirety of your chambers to mine?"

"I can move it all back."

"Of course."

"I will."

"I believe you."

"I'll do it now."

He raised a brow then nodded "Go on."

Her head turned just towards the door, casting glances at her things that were scattered around the room. For a split second, he believed she actually would jump up, grab everything she could carry and storm off. The satisfaction he would receive from just slightly pissing her off did not sit well with her, and she wasn't going to react to the wind-up.

" _You are so_ \- " and then she kissed him. In an unrehearsed motion, throwing herself onto him and holding his head at just the right angle for a deepened kiss. He had muttered something against her lips, along the lines of " _all that and for what_ " before she fully silenced him by throwing her legs over and firmly placing her hands on his face.

"So are you going to meet my mother?" He pulled back by inches after minutes of passionate kissing and not coming up for air, considering she held such a firm grip that the separation was just enough to catch breath.

"Don't say it like that, it sounds like she's screening me for marriage." She made sure he'd seen her exaggerated eye roll, he brought a hand up to run through her hair. It was obvious to Asgard and to them that they would never be suited for marriage, they spoke of it as often as they spoke of the Warriors Three. Which was never.

"I think your father would fall into odinsleep if that were the case," she breathed after rolling over, as he pressed open-mouthed kisses down her stomach working his way down "maybe Thor would too."

"Apologies. Are you going to sit and talk to my mother while she asks appropriate questions, possibly tomorrow morning?" He'd propped his head up on her thigh, a hand holding her hip as she tended to buckle at every touch to her sides.

"Does my answer depend on what you're going to do next," she asked, meeting his gaze with a smirk. She released her fingers from gripping the sheet and joined his hand, noticing the grin it drew on his face.

"Yes, I believe it does." He continued locking eyes with her as he kissed her inner thigh.

In the sensual games they played, Amora hated to admit it, but she had less willpower than Loki. The man could drag absolutely anything out. Amora caved after being left high and dry for too long, always up for competition but enjoying the prize far more. And then he was kissing around and about and she couldn't take anymore, wrapping her legs around his neck as she exhaled an unmissable " _fine I'll see her tomorrow!_ ". She caught his low snicker and then he was barely visible to her, having other things to focus on as she tried to stop herself trembling underneath him. She did not need to enlarge that man's ago anymore. Then she felt bliss, and him, all at once. Seriously, the talent in that man’s tongue was insane. No matter what Frigga had to say, it was not going to ruin her positive mood.

Frigga was such an intelligent woman that - in addition to her caring nature - she was quite intimidating. Not in the fearsome way Karnilla and Odin were, in the way that you didn’t want to displease her, she was someone that was better onside.

The handmaidens skirted past Amora, one hovered to pour her a cup of tea. Frigga sat opposite her, a pretty picture surrounded by flowers that complemented her pink dress that sparkled over the seat. The handmaidens left the two of them, hovering nearby in case their Queen needed anything.

“Karnilla came to me, we had a brief conversation about - “ Frigga faced Amora after examining the view, which she had been gazing at since Amora sat down “ - you, mostly.”

Amora could barely remain still. She fidgeted in her chair, fingers weaving parts of her dress together as she maintained as much composure as she could.

“Well, that is not unsurprising.” She started “Karnilla enjoys keeping everyone in the loop about how my punishment is going.”

“Oh, we didn’t discuss your training with Sif - how is that going by the way? I saw bruising on your legs as you walked over.”

Amora knew the marks on her legs were innocent, they had no correlation to the post-evening activities she enjoyed with Loki. They were in fact from battling Sif, perhaps she didn’t want to admit Sif was superior to her in the art of warfare but it was true. Sif bested her every time. Yet the look across Frigga’s face was intriguing, she had a raised brow and glint in her eye.

“Well, we are finished - “ Amora shrugged “ - thank the Norns. I have little enjoyment for sparring - “ her eyes darted quickly between the table - that she was staring at - and Frigga “Apologises, your majesty. I have spoken out of turn.”

“No need for apologies, I wouldn’t enjoy continuous combat training either.” Frigga warmed her features, a light laugh bouncing off the glass walls “I prefer sorcery, like yourself.”

The flush was apparent over Amora‘s cheeks, she matched the rose centrepiece on the table “Yes, well, of course the training has taken away time I would have with Karnilla - “

“What do you think of Loki?” Frigga placed her cup on the table, the quietest clink becoming the loudest sound.

Amora released her dress from her fingers grip, and sucked in her bottom lip as she held her gaze “We both know in the face of honesty, that he is a good friend of mine.”

“Well, you see, he spoke of you for a long time. Ever since you met.” Frigga paused, as if she was recalling memories “Then, suddenly, he stopped. It wasn’t because your friendship deteriorated, I believe it is because - “

“Your majesty, we are not inclined that - “

“I know, Amora.”

The rush to Amora’s heart was different to the one she felt when Loki kissed her, or even Sif making an inappropriate comment about the two (Amora took a private glory in that, she liked the attention) but this time, there was a hint of fear racing in her bloodstream.

“Did he tell you?”

“He didn’t have to.”

 _Shit._ Amora cursed herself, was that a trick for her to admit her, well, alliance with Frigga’s son?  
“It seems Karnilla was wrong," Frigga pursued her lips "she owes me."

Amora almost choked her on tea, the cup wobbling in her hand as she placed it down. Frigga appeared smug, a slight grin drawing across her face as she sipped her own tea.

“Oh - well, _er_ \- “

“I see the way you are, I always have.” Frigga smiled at her, a true smile “the way you look at him, the way he looks at you.” She emphasised the second part more than the first “I have to say, Loki has always been good to you, and you accepted that goodness. I know how difficult your time has been here since Karnilla, well, whisked you away from your home.”

“I’d like to say Asgard is my home, now.” Amora drummed her fingers against her thigh, she did enjoy her time with Frigga but the light interrogation unsettled her. Especially as Loki wasn’t present to direct her.

“I understand.” Frigga’s handmaiden came bustling in, rather frantically as she only had a message for the Queen which she whispered into her ear. Frigga nodded and said something along the lines of how long she would be. The handmaiden nodded and smiled at both the Queen and Amora before leaving.

“What does this mean?” Amora asked as soon as the handmaiden was out of earshot.

“What do you mean?” Frigga asked innocently.

Amora tried to word her answer as best she could “ _Are you_ \- does Odin, I mean, does the _Allfather_ \- “

“My husband isn’t a fool. Yet he isn’t as all-seeing as believed, the same applies to Thor, who isn’t aloof but doesn’t catch the inconspicuous things firsthand.” Frigga’s interruption wasn’t a rude one, she easily put Amora’s mind at rest “You have good timing, believe me. With the cutting of the engagements…I’d prefer if my sons could just be, well, sons before royal diplomats.” Frigga paused, studying Amora as if wondering whether to continue “The betrothals, they weren’t definite. Perhaps engaging Thor to Sif was slightly cruel, but apparently their friendship is strong, still.”

“Perhaps,” Amora drifted into her own world. She wasn’t lost for words but she didn’t know what to say, Sif and Thor being her least favourite subject and the debacle surrounding the engagements simply annoying her. Could Frigga have not objected to it earlier, before it spiralled?

“I have to ask, are you going to tell - “ As childish as it sounded, Amora wanted to know if Frigga was going to entertain Odin or Thor, or both, with the knowledge she discovered “...it’s just, I don’t think it’s truly important to bring up - I mean, Karnilla forbid me from - your majesty, is it too much to ask for this to be kept to yourself?”

Frigga sighed, and Amora’s heart almost dropped “I won’t go out of my way to spill what technically is my son’s business...but if he tells his brother or if his father asks, there is not much I can do. I would rather not lie to my family,” she smiled “but I can pretend not to hear such questions.”

Amora had always respected Frigga. More than Odin or Karnilla. She wondered how Thor himself came from Frigga, for he was such an ass and she was not. That day, however, confirmed that Frigga had a small part of Amora’s concealed heart.

* * *

_We can’t be friends when we are lovers._

There had been a time where Amora and Thor had not forced themselves to bond, but had been in situations where they wouldn’t argue. One of the many downsides of courting (whether privately or publicly) the second Prince of Asgard was putting up with his brother. Thor had come to Amora tail between legs, he had found her in the gardens burning and regrowing blades of glass with her fingertips. They countered back-and-forth insults before Thor had finally gotten to the point.

Well, Amora coerced it from him in a single breath.

“What do you want Thor? If you won’t spit it out, at least get your go-between to do it.”

The image of Sif sat in both their minds as her catty comment rolled off her tongue, in front of the short-tempered Thor. Oh, but at least he had no idea about Amora’s conversation with his mother or Sif. Thor wasn’t a good enough actor to hide it even if he did know.

“Is there perhaps another time I could speak to you, maybe when you aren’t being so defensive?”

“Is there perhaps a time where you don’t have to speak to me, at all?” Rising to her feet, she brushed down her dress.

“Amora - “ The frustration was growing in Thor, but it was ever more apparent in Amora.

“What do you want, Thor?”

“I’m in need of - “ he looked over his shoulder “ - some assistance.”

“ _Ew_ \- “

“Not like that!” He released his gaze on her, turning red “there’s an issue, and I’d rather not alarm my family or friends - “

“I’m glad you consider me neither.” She flashed her teeth at me as she wiggled her brows.

“I think I shall have to tell Loki - “

“Thor is there anyway you could get to the point faster, I have a lesson tomorrow.”

“How does Loki put up with you?” He definitely looked more than pissed, good.

“I have my ways.” She winked at him which only furthered his annoyance - and embarrassment.

“Remember that girl, from the feast a few weeks ago?” He gestured her height “dark hair, purple or red dress - look, she’s from Vanaheim - “

“How great.” She muttered, walking towards the palace as he sped up to catch up with her.

“You didn’t impregnate her, did you?” She glanced at him as they both walked, a strange picture to invasive eyes.

“No!” He hissed “Well, we were privately inclined in my chambers - “

Amora scrunched her nose up, throwing an emphasised disgusted look “Less detail, please.”

Amora had been one of those women in his chambers, and for that her face pictured disgust every time she thought of it (rarely) and any time Thor mentioned his late-night activities. After their catty games of trading insults and winding each other up, Thor would resume his natural arrogance instead of the irritation that would simply flourish in Amora’s presence.

“And in the morning she was gone - but that’s not unusual, especially as she was visiting. But, I had these papers on my desk - “

“This girl stole your homework?”

“Amora, I think she took papers that heavily indulged in Asgardian affairs, they were transcripts of the council meetings - “ Thor’s authoritative tone only concerned her more, he was never one to take his sparse duties seriously.

“The ones you’re meant to attend?” Amora slowed her pace, bringing her arms up to cross her chest.

“Yes, well, perhaps Loki transcribes sometimes, I just don’t always make it - “

“This Vanaheim girl took these?” She stopped in her tracks, knowing full well the implications of what Thor was saying.

“Possibly! I woke up and they were gone!” He dramatically threw his face into his hands, the stress overcoming him as Amora stood, dumbfounded.

“And she’s the only woman that had access to your chambers?”

“Well…” He appeared tentatively from behind his hands, hoping the unveiled sight would show the missing scripts.

“How do you know it’s even her?” Amora grasped part of his shirt to pull him down the path as maidens began to stare. She wasn’t sure if it was because Thor was causing a commotion, Thor himself or because Amora was firmly holding him.

“Just - “ he glanced down at her “she might have been the daughter of - “ with almost a whisper he said “ - the King and Queen of Vanaheim.”

“Thor!” Amora brought up her hand as if to curse him, she wanted to “Wait, that makes her...Sigyn’s sister…”

In the way the betrothals were arranged, they were such a huge deal as selected fair and mighty maidens were sought from the Nine Realms (although Midgard, Muspelheim and Jotunheim were always silently excluded) in order to bring a complete alliance to already friendly realms. They would secure a bond in case of future warfare or upset. Sigyn was of Vanaheim hence she brought alliance by marrying the second Prince, while the realm was considered at peace with Asgard, they’d come to blows before in court. Especially after the destruction of the engagement and the more or less ‘banishment’ of Sigyn - most likely on Vanaheim’s part - the realm may not be overly fond of Asgard.

Thor appeared out of place and confused. His stricken face was enough to burst into tears, but Amora just stood gaping. Messing around with maidens was not one of his traits but his talents. From time to time, he’d spent a loving amount of time with daughters of the council and gotten away with it. Although, that was far different from Royalty of another realm.

“I truly don’t want to ask,” Amora fazed up at him, watching his troubled features crease “Why have you told me? What do you expect of me?”

“Like I said, I need assistance,” Thor was good-natured, and Amora brought out the worst in him from time to time. However, his openness with her was not part of that good nature, it seemed he wanted her to bring out his dodgy traits.

“I’m going to tell Loki, he’ll be enraged - “ he paused, knowing full well that his brother was never outwardly angry at him, this would be of the first “then, if you agree, I believe it’s best we go to Vanaheim.”

“You’re not going to battle them, are you?” It came across as light, but Amora was partly serious. After all, she didn’t want a replay of Alfheim.

“No, I wouldn’t,” he grinned but without the joy behind it “perhaps this time, we should simply talk.”

While Thor bared many new expressions she hadn’t seen him wear before, his new-found maturity, whether it came from being genuinely shaken-up or scared of the consequences, was a delightful new feature. That is, if he could hold onto it after this venture.

* * *

Thor had persuaded Amora to join him when he explained the situation to Loki. She believed she was only there so he wouldn’t take it as badly if she weren’t, Thor deemed her some kind of diffusing treaty between them so was more than delighted that she agreed. Although Loki was slightly alarmed that the two of them had arrived together, possibly believing them to announce their elopement and run away together.

_No, that’s not how he felt._

Loki was enraged, obviously. He cursed at Thor, knowing he would be at fault if the scripts were put to use - after all they were in his handwriting. It didn’t take long to coax Loki to join them in Vanaheim, not that he would reject. They met on the bridge and easily persuaded Heimdall to transport them to Vanaheim, as if he knew what they were up to. Amora has simply lied to Karnilla, although it did help that she was in company of the Princes.

Thor and Loki greeted the royals politely, Thor even slapping the young prince on the back promising to spar with him. Thor’s eyes were large though searching for the woman he bedded, the one he believed to have stolen the papers.

Amora stood slightly behind the two, smiling forcefully at the five-person family. The mother wore her hair like Frigga’s although it was brassy, the daughters were under both her hands, pressing into their shoulders as if she didn’t want them to slip away to Thor and Loki and become forever altered. The Queen gave Amora a questioning look, privately hoping she was associated with Thor and not the man her daughter was meant to wed in a few short months.

“We apologise for our eldest’s absence, she promised to fulfil duties in the city today.” The King spoke handsomely of his daughter and Thor was drawn to his speech “she will be back tonight, of course, for the feast.”

“We hope to see you all there.” The Queen said, long fingers still squeezing her children’s thin shoulders, that precious accusatory look returning to Amora.

“Of course, we’d be delighted.” Thor spoke for the three of them.

The Queen’s handmaidens stood further behind the family, until directed to lead the three Asgardian visitors to their rooms. Thor briefly walked with the women, until reeling back to join Loki and Amora.

“Thor, he only mentioned one daughter…” Loki began, looking concerned as Thor’s face showed his head was spiralling “the other two were, I think, still learning to talk.”

“So, maybe she isn’t Sigyn’s sister…” Thor grunted as he dragged his feet, shoulders sinking.

“Do you two not know the immediate family of the royals?” Amora questioned, looking accusatory at both of the brothers.

“You do realise we are in this debacle because Thor doesn’t show up for the meetings, right?” Loki turned to her, a slight grin pictured on his face.

“Sigyn never mentioned a sister, Loki?” Amora crossed her arms and Thor didn’t even miss the heated look she sewed on her features.

“She didn’t speak of her family, the external courtees aren’t allowed to.” He replied plainlt as Amora pouted, a silent ‘ _oh_ ’ slipping her lips.

“Well, we can surely speak to Sigyn tonight and see if she recognises the woman.” Thor said, a triumph smile crossing his features as he just uttered the best plan.

“What if Sigyn ordered the girl to steal the scripts?” Amora questioned, not missing two sets of eyes blazing over her.

“I highly doubt the princess of - “ Thor began his self-righteous pro-monarchy monologue just as Amora interrupted “Well you originally thought she was a princess! The woman that may have stolen the papers…”

“So, what are we going to do? Waltz up to her tonight and question her?” Loki asked as Thor stopped, turning on his heel with a sharp sigh “Maybe we can’t - “ he gestured to Amora “ - however - “

Amora raised her brows and stared down Thor “You do realise Sigyn knows who I am?”

“How so? You barely spoke to each other!” Thor dramatically rolled his eyes, another plan foiled.

“It was my doing that got her rash engagement cut.” Amora said, a little too proudly.

“Can’t you just - “ Thor gestured to her form “ - alter your appearance?”

“ _I can alter yours,_ ” she said then whispered lowly to Loki “without magic.”

“Look, Thor, you can search her out at the welcome feast tonight.” Loki said “Just don’t quiz her about possibly stealing Asgardian documentation.”

“Then what should I do?” Thor huffed, throwing his hands in the air as Amora rolled her eyes “Just don’t sleep with her or bring up the documents - try and source the woman out. Maybe she’s a handmaiden?”

Thor begrudgingly dragged his feet, performed a dramatic frustrated growl while he listened to Amora. Supposing this was his doing that caused them to travel to Vanaheim in search of a woman only Thor had seen, with the idea that she took the documents.

They’d all travelled to their separate rooms after hastily discussing their half-planned plan. Amora could only stick staring at the ugly drapes and polished metals of her Vanaheim-esqe for a matter of minutes before she sauntered down the hall, trying to locate Loki’s room.

“Where’s Thor?” She asked once she’d found him, overlooking the view from where he stood at the large silver framed window.

“I think he’s beautifying himself up, ready to seduce every woman at the feast tonight.” He looked over at her, smiling as she neared him “aren’t you getting ready?”

“Hmm, I was planning on showering - “ she met his gaze with a wink as she nestled into his side, the softness of his hands following the slopes of her body “ - and I was planning on showering with…” rolling her lips, she raised her brow in question.

“Ah,” Loki grinned then kissed her sweetly “that sounds... _very nice_. Although I don’t think it’s wise to give Thor any evidence or - “

“Are you suggesting Thor will walk in - “

“I just think, I want you all to myself...” he rested his chin on her head, pulling her in tight “Thor is generally behind on such things, but no doubt interested in your activities considering he and you - “

Amora threw herself away from Loki as the door swung open, an almighty Thor bombarding in, similar to a warrior against marauders (yes, that time). The loudness of his feet spooking both Amora and Loki who jumped from each other’s embrace.

“Thor - “

“What’s going on, something the matter?” Thor’s words were actually kind and concerned, perhaps more directed at his brother in case he thought Loki was upset.

“Uh,” Amora’s mouth began to move without her brain’s consent “Loki saw Sigyn - “ _say anything else!_ “ - and uh, he’s sort-of upset - “ the daggers she received from apparently upset Loki were almost humouring “ - so I thought, I thought I would comfort him.” In the stupidness of the elaborate speech Amora shuffled restlessly throughout, she ended it by throwing her arms back around Loki’s midsection.

“Oh,” Thor was confused, as was everyone in the room “are you alright, brother?”

In the obviously tender moment, Loki had been quiet. Well, speechless. Amora could feel him leaning on her not knowing whether he was going to pass out from the absurdity of her cover-up or the fact he was almost caught kissing her in front of his brother.

“I,” he started “spoke with Sigyn, and - “

“I understand as well, especially with Sif and the - “ Thor glanced at Amora, who, for a reason unidentified, was still clinging to Loki “perhaps we can discuss this later, the two of us.”

Amora would’ve probably been hurt by the obvious comment that she wasn’t to hear such matters - even though Loki had already spilled most of what Thor said about Sif to her. She loosened herself from him and agreed, playing the doting friend.

“Or you can discuss it now.” Amora deliberately smiled at Loki them naturally towards Thor as she leaped for the door. Well, the shower for one was better than incriminating herself in front of Thor, her tacky room had never felt so inviting.

* * *

The three of them were huddled like birds in the corner of the great hall. Vanaheim drew in all the exquisites for their festivities, long sparkling drapes swooping the ceiling, a huge chandelier sparkling off every mirrored surface in the room. Thor was dressed in his finery, he noted to Amora and Loki that it was the same outfit he wore when he bedded the mysterious woman, just in case she noticed him. Amora had laughed at that when Thor walked away, offering to fetch them drinks. She only had to put up the forever-friend, loyal-Asgardian-Enchantress act for the next few days, and that could be done. There was a slipping thought in her mind of whether it was possible to sneak into Loki’s room later that night, but then Thor reappeared with three goblets, quashing that thought.

“Oh, Amora, she can't be that bad,” Thor handed her a drink “wouldn’t you be a little pissed in her position?”

They were speaking about Sigyn. Thor was insistent that Amora should be the one to speak to Sigyn and search her for details, as Loki was too upset and Thor didn’t want to accidentally reveal who he was after - he said he was the back-up plan. Amora had rolled her eyes while Loki smirked into his drink, not knowing whether to fight her corner and keep her separate from Sigyn - in case they clawed at each other, or whether it would be enjoyable to watch them spit. Amora was about to protest, starting with comparing her and Sigyn even though Thor wouldn’t truly understand considering the missing details, but then a swollen voice called her name.

“Amora?”

“How did she - “

“Right, go have fun.” Thor gently pushed her towards Sigyn as he tip-toed backwards, hauling Loki with him.

The tune of the piano became more apparent in her ears as Amora waited until Thor and Loki were out of earshot, turning politely to face Sigyn as she sipped her drink. Her eyes drew low as Sigyn came into focus, a curled updo situated on the top of her head and another ridiculous feathered dress trailing the floor.

“If it isn’t the warrior of the hour,” Sigyn hissed through her forced smile “How’s Sif?”

“Ah, if it isn’t the wife of - _oh wait!_ ” Amora mockingly laughed as she glared at Sigyn. There was no written scripture that the Asgardian Enchantress had to be nice to bitchy princesses.

“I see you haven’t dealt with those tree trunks.” Sigyn’s lip curled, impressed with her own retort as she scanned Amora up and down.

Amora gave a simulated beatific smile as she tossed her hair over her shoulder “I see you haven’t dealt with that bird's nest on your head.”

“Ever the delight, aren’t you?” Amora enjoyed that Sigyn was currently shifting from foot to foot “What exactly are you doing in Vanaheim?”

“Would you believe me if I said honeymoon?” Amora chuckled, watching the slip of shock cross Sigyn’s unruly features.

“As if,” Sigyn rolled her eyes “You’ve got the trousers but where’s the sword, soldier?”

“I’m here with Thor and Loki on a very _official_ trip, a very secretive trip…” Amora smirked, one hand stroking over her silk emerald dress trousers. She sounded childish and she knew it, but there was little else to be around Sigyn “it’s truly none of your concern.”

Amora lied. Sigyn would probably be quite beneficial in this case, especially in identifying the woman Thor spoke of. Amora’s pride - and her hatred of Sigyn - purely persuaded her to both condescend and irritate Sigyn. And it worked, Sigyn just exerted a lame hiss as she pushed past Amora, snarling as she drank from her goblet “You’ve got a mark on your neck, by the way.”

Amora gazed down at her own drink, silently pleased with herself but took a moment to place her hair back over her shoulder, covering her neck.

Thor, for once, was not entertaining any maidens but had Loki at his side. They both stood politely amongst other eyes, but eyes wide and searching for the woman Thor believed to have stolen the documents from him. Amora squeezed herself in between them as she approached them from behind, drinking the last drop of wine from her goblet.

“I’m annoyed,” Amora placed the goblet on the table, staring between Thor and Loki. They both dropped their heads to look at her, Thor slightly surprised at her sneakiness.

“Oh dear.” Loki said with a grin.

“Did you speak to Sigyn?” Thor asked, almost too intensely as Amora nodded “You may have better luck Thor.”

He looked defeated but understood the dynamic between Amora and Sigyn wasn’t due to be all sunshine and rainbows “Guess it’s worth a shot.”

“You guess? It’s _your_ fault we’re here.” Loki scoffed as Thor threw daggers at him then whispered a curse as he staggered away to find Sigyn.

“Do you want a drink?” Loki turned his body to face Amora properly as she shook her head “No,” her eyes wandered over him briefly “I want a kiss.”

“ _Ah_.” He cocked his head slightly, darting his eyes around at the overdressed guests “Here?”

“You’re kidding?” Now Amora scoffed, crossing her arms over her front, drawing attention to the small green cloth wrapped around her chest, leaving her shoulders bare.

“Obviously,” he slid his hand in hers after quickly pulling them from her chest “let’s go.”

Loki led her from the hall, briefly stopping to say goodnight to the Queen who was wandering without her husband. She remained courteous and polite but still held a glossy, curt look as she focused on Amora who had already dropped Loki’s hand. It wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to leave a feast early to involve themselves in far more interesting tasks...however in another realm especially under the relationship circumstances between Asgard and Vanaheim would be a little difficult if they were caught.

Where once it had been wrong to touch her now felt welcoming, like a new-found home that had forever been located in the back of his mind. Walls sort-of seemed to be their thing, considering Amora had pressed Loki against one not too far from the great hall. Using his hands to trace her bare waist and sides, it mirrored that of a dance, the sequence the same but the rhythm building. Ditching Thor and leaving him to his own devices was the relief they needed.

Amora grasped the collar on his jacket, forcing him to meet her mouth as his fingers ran over the lines in her dress trousers, smoothing the creases with a pace that would quicken.

“This is _dangerous_ …” she whispered as she switched from kissing his neck to his mouth.  
With her kiss he felt complete. He allowed himself to be intoxicated by the woman he treasured, drunk on the kiss he whispered “But that’s what makes it so fun…”

“If Sigyn - or anyone sees - “ Even with her protests, she still continued to lock lips with him and press herself against him.

“Amora.”

“Don’t say my name so loudly, Sigyn seemingly has special powers to hear it from miles away.” Amora cackled lightly, hands roaming over Loki as he grinned “Well, _darling_ , I suggest we reconvene somewhere more private.”

“Perhaps sneaking me into your room will not be so different from sneaking me into your chambers.” Then she leaned out of his embrace, tugging his hand as they almost-ran down the corridor, shrill laughter filling the air.

* * *

Continuous knocking had woken him. One of the servants must've been on the other side of the door, although instead of their gentle tapping, it was hard thuds with little intervals. Amora was asleep on her side, facing him. Deceiving anyone who witnessed her innocent, unconscious state, although Loki knew if she found a way to appear as venomous asleep as she was awake, she would wear it every time she closed her eyes.

"I don't think the dresser will open the door," Amora murmured, eyes still closed but sarcasm alive as ever.

He pulled his arm out from under Amora, and hurriedly buttoned his shirt, answering the door and finding a larger, more masculine version of the servant girl he expected. Thor.

" _Damn_ ,"

"Damn indeed."

* * *

Loki was quite thankful for Amora's alertness, she was suddenly in-between them, hair untamed and night dress revealing more than she would in front of Thor. Currently, she was the only obstacle between him and Thor's mighty fist. The impeccable ferociousness she held usually amazed him, and it still did, but coming between Thor's rage and the reason for his rage was never a good idea, and he didn't want Amora to be an accidental punchbag. Frigga was wrong, Thor would demonstrate a certain madness.

"I think you should leave, Thor." She almost whispered. She was far from afraid of Thor, however her soothing tone usually eased men, diluting their uncontrollable intentions and encouraging them to forget the entire reason they walked into the room.

"I think you should move," he replied, eyes ablaze with fury that she hadn't seen from him in a long time, possibly not ever.

"Thor, if you just - "

"Amora, move." He ordered through gritted teeth.

Thor had rarely referred to her as Amora alone, especially in the presence of others, he would simply call her Enchantress. In fear of actually being overheard by her and suffering a terrible fate for simply uttering about her. Thor grabbed Amora's arms, to physically displace her from his view. Touching the Enchantress was never going to end well for anyone, especially when they didn't have her express permission. Her glare remained fierce on him, planting her feet in front of Loki, and suddenly Thor, now radiating emerald, was across the room, lying in a tangled heap next to the dresser.

“I thought you were friends.” Thor struggled to stand as he growled.

“We’re not _not_ friends…” Amora sarcastically quipped as she searched for a robe on the bed, pulling it round her shoulders.

“Loki - how - if this is because of Sigyn, and the engagement…” Thor was up again, stumbling towards Loki with an accusatory finger gingerly waving in the air “It doesn’t make sense.”

Loki had remained quiet, or speechless, until Thor danced towards him, he slouched slightly as he jibed “Does _this_ really not make sense?”

“How long?” Amora had never seen Thor so enraged. In her life. _Ever_.

“ _A week._ ” She quickly spoke just as Loki did “A while.”

There was a pause as Thor grew frustrated, Amora stepped slightly ahead of Loki to continue protesting as lightly as she could fathom “It really isn’t any of your concern, Thor.”

“It isn’t?” He growled at Amora, lowering himself to her height as she lifted her arms around her shoulders “You spend this time making comments about inadequate Sigyn but you want me to believe you are any better! You think I want my brother spending any of his time with you? Let alone... _this!_ ”

Loki’s features crushed together to expel a sharpness of rage that he was trying to conceal “Thor, do not speak - “

“ _Quiet!_ ”

Thor stepped towards Amora, who for the first time in his presence was shifting restlessly “I can tolerate the lessons, the tricks - the dancing at feasts...you cannot - this is - “ He flew back, throwing a hand in the air with a soft growl “I was foolish enough to fall for your - _father will be furious!_ ”

Amora barely had time to snatch a look at Loki before Thor swooped back, fired up for another barking monologue. Her whole body jumped unconsciously as he came close to her, in a hurried motion his face softened.

“Thor - “ she didn’t realise how heavy she’d been breathing, her nails were digging into her arms as she pulled her body in tighter. Loki had already stepped in front of her, a hand fixed for a spell that cast Thor across the room again in a similar fashion that Amora had previously performed.

She didn’t want to hear Thor’s apology or excuse, her feet led her to the bathroom where she briskly shut the door behind her, hearing the faint lock managed to rest her heartbeat as she relaxed against the door. There was a shorter than expected argument between the two of them. Picturing this moment wasn’t uncommon, it rarely appeared in her nightmares (usually that was Odin) but Amora knew, surely, at some point Thor would discover his little brother’s affiliation with the sorceress apprentice. Thor had joked about it, asked Sif for information regarding it - and surely Sif relayed it back?...Maybe it was simply the anger in the moment, seeing them in sleepwear with ruffled hair and not knowing _how_ to react.

Loki had joined her later, coaxing his way into her presence as she settled into him. He’d more or less banished Thor from the room, the storming of his large feet confirming he’d left the corridor. It was clear Loki was upset, face paler and unusually quiet as he ran his fingers through Amora’s hair.

“He shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, I’m so sorry…” he breathed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. Amora had brought her knees up to rest her chin on, she was rather alarmed at Thor’s reaction. She could only wonder if Odin would be similar, or worse.

“Amora, I think - “ he lifted his hands to pull her face up, staring at her intently “ - maybe we should - perhaps right now, at this moment - “

There was a creasing between her brows immediately as Loki stuttered. There was an uncertainty in his voice she hadn’t discovered before, which was odd considering she knew the man inside out. Loki continued to waffle but Amora’s chest suddenly became frantic, it felt like a rock was banging against the insides of her rib cage, knocking all the bones rhythmically.

“I think we should let this…” it was clear he was referring to them “go unnoticed for a while.”

There was a rush to her head she hadn’t experienced before, a tightness inside of her that seemed to swell all the empty spaces between her bones. Whatever they had had continued for years, but they rarely spoke of such labels or the future, and hiding it seemed to cancel those conversations.

“You mean break up?” She lifted her head to gaze up at him. She said after carefully constructing her face for only staged emotion.

He sighed “You said it yourself, we aren’t technically together...we should just - with my father - “

Loki was well within his rights to be upset and annoyed at his brother’s foolish reaction, the pressure placed on him by his family to find someone suitable. Thor hadn’t enjoyed Amora as a person since their own private incident, and it wasn’t as if he didn’t make that clear to Loki. Amora was constantly in her own head about how unlined she was compared to the other ladies of Asgard (including that Vanaheim bitch) but every time she was enclosed in his arms, or sharing wine with him, practicing sorcery - she wasn’t a cursed witch, a temperamental enchantress, the worst product to come out of Nornheim.

“You _are_ ashamed of me.” She realised, pulling back from him. Thor knew and it affected him. Prancing and fooling around at feasts or in the courtyard was usually to wind Thor and Co up, but with hard evidence and Thor seeing it for himself would only be relayed to Odin. Frigga could accept it and keep it to herself, it seemed Loki wanted to live up to a certain expectation in front of his father.

“ _No!_ Of course not - “ he began protesting as Amora’s head reeled.

“That’s why we had to be quiet about - “ Even though she was speaking to him, most of it was to herself, the puzzle pieces were falling into place.

“We were quiet for _your_ sake too.” He argued, tending against the wall.

“You truly want to - “ Amora swallowed “ - _because of Thor?_ ”

Perhaps she realised it was then when her heart stopped beating erratically, when her thoughts calmed, she was everything without him. But she felt more comfortable, more accepted with him. Even if she had to wind back to being just a flirty friend at parties and dinners, even with Sif knowing and keeping their secret, Amora enjoyed the secret and the fun anonymity.

“Can you go?” She asked after they both sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Amora.” Her hand flinched when he tried to place his on it.

“Can you leave, Loki.” She shifted from him, edging away as she continued to ask him to leave. Loki remained in silent protest for a moment before rising to his feet, a softness so exposing on his face. There was a stinging in her eyes and if she had to cry, she need not a witness.

Amora’s hands fidgeted against the robe she quickly clothed herself in. Winding in the softness of the satin as Loki continued towards the door, he was nearly through it when she spoke “Sigyn said I was too fat for you.”

“What?”

“You said you wanted to know what she said to me in Asgard. I lied. She said I was too _fat_.” Amora paused waiting for his obvious protest but spoke before he had the chance “You can go now.”

He listened to her, then he left. And then she let herself cry, because she was losing someone no one knew she had to begin with.

* * *

Amora knew in the passing months that she was fading. Not within herself, no. With the absence of Loki, and the difficulty between her and Sif teetering everyday, she had little time for socialising with anyone. Karnilla was the most common person in her life, and thoughts, unfortunately. It seemed Asgard itself had relaxed about the assumption that Amora was no longer interfering with the throne. Karnilla seemed chirpier, which only confirmed that Odin somehow had sourced that Amora wasn’t as present as she used to be in his son’s life. Well, she was rarely dining in the palace and never attended feasts.

After they left Vanaheim, which was awkward itself considering the three of them didn’t speak. It turns out, to Amora’s absolute rage, that no handmaiden nor princess had access to such documents. Thor had gotten through to Sigyn and spoke of the lady he bedded (she was unsure if he missed this part out in presence of Sigyn or not) and she introduced him to the maiden. The woman did belong to Sigyn, she was a handmaiden that travelled to Asgard with councilmen to represent the family after the cancelled engagements - the royal family weren’t physically going to be in Asgard for a while. It was clear why. The maiden only bedded Thor and left, she had little idea of where such documents would be. So, the only choice the three had was to leave, and the royal family couldn’t have been more obliging.

When her books couldn’t entertain her anymore, Amora would suck the life from the candles dotting her desk and sink into the chair. Sometimes, she wondered about Sif. They hadn’t spoken either. There was an absurdity within Thor when he ranted at Amora in Vanaheim, as if he wasn’t receiving the information Sif was funnelling from Amora. Even before, she didn’t quite miss Sif. Yet felt something about it, but with mere silence from Sif, Amora wondered if she was a true ally or just entertaining Amora because of her connections. Probably the latter.

It was possible that Amora potentially relocated her anger from Thor, Odin, Loki, the list was quite long - and placed it on Sif. Well, she did at least when passing through the courtyard one afternoon. Sif and Amora traded insults, squabbling without a care. The insults turned to physical blows as they cattily fought, then it turned to a fully fledged battle. To sum up, Amora had barely any resilience and moral within her generally, but with her rattled more everyday, there was no glimpse of a casual day.

“You aren’t as good a warrior as you - “ Amora’s head jerked as Sif landed a punch squarely on her jaw, hearing a small crack as blood drooled. They were drawing a crowd. There was an unmissable gasp and it actually sounded like Fandral. Amora slapped Sif across the face, dodging the next blow as she threw her leg up to kick her in the stomach.  
Sif groaned, stumbling backwards slightly but remained balanced and grabbed at Amora, latching onto her hair. While Sif was a trained warrior, Amora seemingly brought out the worst in her. Sif was capable of fighting monsters and giants, but scratched at Amora and pulled her hair as if they were children. Obviously, Amora wasn't as skilled as Sif in this area of combat, between sorcery and hand-to-hand, the latter was her weakness. As everyone knew.

Amora prepared her fists, however, the strength Sif possessed had Amora tumbling over and smashing into the ground, clutching her sides as her breath hitched. Sending Sif caustic glares, she watched as her face screwed up in pain, probably feeling where Amora had just kicked her.  
Amora exhaled sharply, squeezing her side as she rose. Ironically, if she hadn’t trained at Sif she definitely wouldn’t have such an even base when battling her. She did take the opportunity to sarcastically thank her for that. Although, she then had to brace herself as Sif flew at her angrily, gripping her shoulders as Amora tried to fight her. Both of them squirmed and fought arrogantly until Amora lost balance, toppling backwards. Sif saw this as a perfect moment to give her one last _loving_ shove.

Amora tried to balance herself as she hit the fountain, falling backwards into the water, her legs flying up in defeat. The water slapped her, drenching her clothes as she sank further back. Her luscious locks dampening along with her clothes - and pride.

Amora frustratedly growled and stood up. Releasing her locked eyes, she spurned the looks of everyone around her. Sif stared apprehensively, then threw Amora her hand to help her. She wasn’t smiling but it was ever in-character for Sif to do such a thing after battle, as if they were simply sparring.

“You’re joking,” Amora hissed as she hauled her skirts up to step out of the fountain, wobbling as she did. The squelching sound of her soaked feet in her shoes following her as she fled the courtyard. She didn’t care for the eyes that traced her every inch as she stormed away.

Amora led half the fountain’s water down the corridor, a trail forming behind her as her heavy dress dragged on the floor. She was very nearly at her short-cut route when a hand grabbed her arm.  
Amora flew in a frenzy, forcing herself away from him, the dress almost making her trip as she yelled “ _Don’t touch me!_ ”

Loki was never frightened of Amora, no matter how powerful she may be. His face did display a frantic look as he reeled back from her, hands slightly raised in surrender.

“My apologies.”

Amora glared through her wet hair, tendrils sticking to her face as she hissed “Leave me alone.”

This was probably an absurd request, as he had left her alone. For months. Yet she had very little time for him even now, she didn’t want to hear anything from him. Not even an apology.

“Amora, are you alright?” He spoke softly and curse his treacherous tongue! He could be her violent nightmare but forever remain as delicate as a snowdrop in the wake of day.

“Don’t ask me if I’m alright, _go away!_ ” Amora hissed, a hot glare beating onto him as he stood facing her, blank. He didn’t reply, had nothing to say.

Amora was about to storm off in a fit, huff away to her room and spare her cries to her cushion. Though it seemed the water sunk into her like venom, she had no shield and no time to pretend, she only asked “ _Tell me_.”

“Tell you what?”

“What did your father say when Thor snitched?” Remaining a statue, she sent a piercing stare as she insisted. She wanted to know, wanted to watch him squirm as he told her.

“Amora - “

“I want to know.” A demand, no question.

“Look - “

“Just _tell me_.” She spoke through gritted teeth, hands clenched at her sides guarding the rising and falling of her chest “There must be something worth noting from his speech of disgust regarding me - he is clearly so important to you.”

Loki appeared as if he was about to argue, because it seemed he had a paragraph to return based on what she just said. Instead, he only replied with what she asked for “He just thinks you’re wild, a little untameable,” he tried to swallow some of the words Odin had relayed about her “a little opinionated…”

" _Opinionated._ " she repeated, a droplet from her hair descending down her nose "You're saying that like it's a bad thing." Forming a frown, her features creased as she digested what he said “These are the things your father said the day he met me, why is it an issue now?”

Amora realised she sounded like she was begging for a second chance or something. She was angry, enraged. Taking it out on Sif didn’t work and only ended up with her legs launched in the air soaked in a fountain. She just wanted to be mad at him.

“ _It’s just_ \- “ He brought his hands forward to clasp onto her as he once would, but he refrained, dropping them.

“You made me have breakfast with your mother.” The wobble in her voice dispelled more anger at herself, for again drawing such emotion from within. Especially in front of him. To Loki, he seemed as if he would burst into tears if he mistook any of the droplets of water on her face for tears.

“I know - “

“Would you have chosen Sigyn if the engagement wasn’t cut?” She asked, eyes ablaze “I mean, that’s it isn’t it? This wouldn’t have happened if - “

“Amora, you know I care and love - “

“ _No!_ ” The shrill of her voice filled the air “Don’t you dare say that, you are not allowed to say that. Not now.” She pushed him chest, hard “You _liar._ ”  
“...I - “

“You are just the same, as everyone you think you are different to…” She didn’t realise she was shaking, her hands were actually shaking. The heat of her rage fluxated through her, she was deciding her next move. Loki’s eyes were brimming with tears, she wondered if it was because she was so emotional. Or maybe the following crowd of Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three, craning their necks back, glimpsing at the action they could hear from afar.

“I’m not that bad, you know.” Her voice broke, a single tear sliding down her hot face. Vulnerability in the bare face of the afternoon, the first time she’d been truly honest with him. And then another tear racing down. And another.

Then her vision was blurred, she turned away. Maybe there was truth more known to the situation, or maybe they weren’t friends. Maybe she was more similar to Sif than she thought - Sif, who, detested the idea of marrying Thor even if she liked him previously. She couldn’t see them go from friends to lovers in the face of the law. Amora lived up to the cruel stories whispered about her, the way the bitchiness followed her from a child to a teenager to even as an adult. Sif fought against dirt on her name, Loki allowed it but was still liked, Thor ordered those who spoke out of turn to the sparring ring. Amora just let it happen, enjoying the attention.

* * *

“I don’t want to go.” Amora whined as Karnilla simply sighed, placing her dark dangly fingers against her forehead.

“I have little persuasion here,” Karnilla said “it is the duty of the King’s Enchantress and her apprentice to attend the anniversary of him and his wife.”

Amora slouched against the desk, bringing her knees up in front of her as Karnilla stood over her, patient. It had only been a few days since she retreated to her chambers, quarantining herself like an animal. Karnilla took little notice at first, assuming a spat had broken out between her and Loki so she would spend less of her days with him. She wasn’t wrong per day but she wasn’t right enough either.

“Karnilla,” that seemed to have caught her attention “why didn’t you pick Lorelei?”

Karnilla’s towering stance dropped, her shoulders sunk as she blinked at Amora. Amora only returned a hard stare as Karnilla’s features reworked themselves over and over before she answered “Lorelei wasn’t as experienced.”

Lorelei was the younger sister she never spoke of, the one she barely remembered. The day Karnilla approached her mother, Lorelei was bundled in her arms while Amora skirted round her legs. Karnilla took no interest in Lorelei, and she only ever told Amora it was because she was so young and inexperienced. No one else knew of Amora’s family, she could recall them in her sleep but lost the sight of her mother’s face after a while. Loki had nursed the subject with her during the late evenings, but Amora naturally declined, which didn’t spurn him.

“Odin said I’m untameable. Do you agree?” She wanted to appear more fierce in her questioning, but her voice softened as Karnilla sat down next to her.

“The first lesson of the taming would be to refer to your king appropriately.” Of course she would say that.

“Perhaps Lorelei would’ve been more tameable.”

“Maybe she would’ve, but I chose you, _smár norse_.” Karnilla winded her hand towards Amora’s “You are wildly unpredictable.”

“Am I though?” Amora questioned, fingers tentatively avoiding Karnilla’s hand “Am I not just the same as Sif or Sigyn? Have I not just done things any other woman would?”

“This isn’t about you courting Loki.” Karnilla pronounced all her features so that her authoritativeness seeped through “You are brash. You neglect duties and feelings, you never refer to your masters correctly. You disregard law and appropriateness. You are not similar nor dissimilar to my past apprentices, but you won’t be well liked.”

Amora’s head sunk into the pillow, the beds in the palace were far more comfier than hers. Karnilla took note and headed to the door, reminding her to be ready for later. Curse Karnilla for her words and her speech.

Amora basically leaned on Karnilla all night, she was bored. The feasts were naturally dull and she usually had a dancing partner to whisk away to a cupboard or corridor. Karnilla ventured towards the Allfather after the dinner, she didn’t sit at his table as Amora pleaded with her to stay with her.

There was a possibility of Amora’s previous alliance with Loki that brought her some security. She never noticed how many unruly, gazing men she invited in, they all deliberately scanned her, ran their eyes invasively over her body as she slouched in her chair. A couple men left the table, one following Karnilla to most likely speak to Odin as well. Amora gazed up at the ceiling, wishing for a huge clock to appear with a countdown telling her when she could go back to her room.

A brisk coldness came upon her, a hand situated on her thigh. Her hair flipped as she swiftly turned her head to face the man that had dared touch her. The face on him was gruesome, he wore a patchy beard and low sunken eyes, there was no remorse behind them.

She brought her dinner knife to her lap, where the man's large fingers gripped. Running the knife softly over the ends of his fingers, she whispered low to him " _Remove your hand, or I will remove it for you._ ”

The man appeared to squeeze slightly before sliding his fingers away, Amora stood up noisily, her chair barking underneath her. Grabbing her shawl she quickly descended to the doors, she would put up an act for Karnilla and remain until necessary, but she didn’t allow men to touch her. Never. Loki had caught her eye as she passed guests, shimmying her way out. His face was blank, a dark look moulded for her until he turned away to face a woman, melting his expression back.

In the coldness, Amora had pulled her shawl further round her and continued down the path she knew all too well. Usually, she had Loki at her side guiding her in both her sober and not-so-sober states. The expression she caught from him at the feast unsettled her: it was of pure hatred. While conversing with herself in the privacy of her mind, her eyes flicked to a shadow that was not her own, but one that had been there since she left the hall.

Amora ignored it when she first noticed, it was probably someone returning to their own room - clearly alone, as the shadow represented one figure. Although, having grown up in one room since arriving on Asgard, and it had been centuries since her first step on golden soil, she knew the location of her abode wasn’t secreted but there weren’t masses of individuals about.  
Honestly, in all the times she had pestered Loki to stop walking her to her room at any hour of the day - because people could just not stop gossiping! She wished she had him at her side now, she was far from scared but the presence of the large figure did unnerve her.

Fiddling for her key in both pockets, she inhaled sharply when her nose suddenly met the hardness of the door, the force so strong that it sent stars dancing in her eyes. Then there was a hotness of breath over her shoulder and up her neck, a stench of sweat that repulsed her as her fist flicked up harshly to greet what had whacked her head so bluntly.

The dress copied her spin as she circled to lay eyes of whatever had dared touched, let alone assaulted her. A dirty hand double the size of her face slammed into her head, blinding her and forcing her to reel back against the door, her hands quickly came up to conjure a defence spell. The grunt he emitted as he bound her hands with his own alerted her that she knew the figure, she had heard that sound before.

Before he landed another whack on her features, her eyes widened and analysed his face quickly. The councillor. The internally (and externally) screamed for she could not recall the man’s name.  
“Stop resisting - “

Amora bounced her knee up to inflict the strongest pain possible on his groin. She was enraged not only by the man’s audacity to lay hands on her but how he told her to stop fighting him.  
“ _Who the Hel do you -_ “

_Whack._

The pain crossing her features was visible to him as much as she wished it wasn’t, the taste of blood on her lip startled her but the attack interrupting her frightened her.

Every single name of the councilmen bar his spiralled through her head that was probably bleeding, due to the connection it just made with the wall. He’d somehow found the key by skirting through her pocket and now they were inside her chambers. The Enchantress did not receive fear, she gave it.

Throwing him off balance, she kicked again at his groin and slipped away, retreating into her room. The man was clearly incompetent not just for attacking her but following her as she casted spells to inflict the harshest, most gruesome pain possible. These spells were not in Karnilla’s curriculum but found in the black-bordered books on Loki’s shelf.

He yelped as the spell shot at him, sinking into visible skin and burning. The man grabbed whatever was closest to him (a book, of course) and launched it at Amora.

The clamping of his boots on the floor alerted her he was coming close, there were no lit candles or stream of sunlight. The smell of him was there, lurking, and she knew his hands were going to grab and grasp at any second. Gathering possessions close to her; a spellbook, a teacup and paperweight, she released each item towards his figure whenever she felt him close in on her.

 _Sif._ Sif carried knives on her. Sif had actually threatened Amora with the knives stapled into her armour, under her skirt and up her sleeve. Curse her. _Curse this_. Curse herself for not copying Sif and probably any other sensible woman!

A growl erupted from the pit of her stomach as the man reached her, pulling her hair and forcing her down. With her back landing on the softness of her own bed, she quietly appreciated that it wasn’t the hard floor. But then he was above her, hovering and gazing over her as if she was a dead animal - a victory.

Amora did not scream. She didn’t yell. Loki had once set part of her dress on fire during a catastrophic lesson, and she didn’t react vocally but quickly cast it away while Loki panicked. Now, she wanted to reach Valhalla and Hel, someone would be listening.

The ugliest hand she’d ever seen clapped over her lip as she uttered her last spell, one that would briefly shock his body. Her lip began to tremble as she whispered a breathless “ _stop, please._ ” against his large hand and clawed at the hands that ran around her waistline.

A coldness overcame her, and then she saw her skirt across the floor. She did not stop kicking until he held her legs with an agonising grip. It was the climax of the battle and she simply, for the first time, caved.

She began to cry. Then closed her eyes after catching the cracked mirror staring at her, and then her pride began to chip at the same time.

* * *

_Sometimes the pain is so unbearable, we don’t know what bearable is._

Amora wasn't touched for months.

The man had left her chambers the next morning, left the realm to travel to another with part of the council. She learnt this from Loki when he belatedly arrived outside her room, she picked herself up and retrieved the skirt that had been tossed aside. She had no idea why he was there, she wouldn’t of answered if it wasn’t for his persistent knocks.

Only half her body appeared from behind the door, and Loki had asked her why she was shaking, why she looked so terrible. He muttered something about wanting to talk, some kind of ‘sorry’ thrown in there as she shook her head.

“I’m sick.” Was all she said, it was the only believable excuse she came up with as he interrogated her; _what’s wrong, what’s happened, where did that bruise come from…_

The door slammed on his face, and she retreated quietly to her bathroom, running her fingers first under the hot water ridding herself of the grime and trace of the man. There was a possibility she would’ve let Loki in if it wasn’t for the acts the night before, the one she couldn’t explain. Once she sank her body under, she forgot about Loki and focused on conjuring healing spells. Again, this was not taught under Karnilla and instead of learning healing spells, she and Loki had been intrigued, greedy teenagers wanting to perfect the dangerous spells before anything else.

Then she let herself shed a tear in the bathtub as she herself. How she wanted Loki to be the one to encircle his arms round her, correctly heal her wounds and kiss her tears away. Even if she hated him. The stranger’s interference with her body would remain with her, and die with her.

The seasons changed and others had noticed her greyed tinge, the colourless glow emanating from her and the sadness pouring out of every smile. Maybe they blamed it on her spat with Loki.  
Normally, she walked as if she had magical slippers crafted just for her, a soft golden hue always glowing around her head and a smile so captivating she needn’t use charming spells on men.

It was strange. Something she didn't share with anyone, but everyone seemed to know. Or at least acted it, suddenly more eyes than normal were following her - not just tracing the curves on her body or envying her dress, but long sympathising gazes. It wasn't long before the whispers reached royal ears and Frigga had ambushed her one evening in her chambers.

"You don't have to explain, but I feel privy to know what's happened." Frigga had delicately placed a hand on Amora’s shoulder as she spoke “you are our future Enchantress, you mean so much to our family, to Karnilla...whatever has happened can be shared with me.”

Family. While Frigga, Odin, Thor and Loki made up a family of four, only half actually liked her. Well, she only counted Loki because he showed up that day to talk, they weren’t on speaking terms still. Odin and Thor had consistently aired their true feelings about their future Enchantress, so there was no second-guessing them.

“There is nothing to share, my Queen.” Amora replied, quieter than she thought.

The Queen was a regal and tasteful woman. Amora adored her, not in the way the citizens did, but she longed for her approval (not admittedly) and sometimes wished she had been given the role of her caretaker, and not Karnilla. This was a mere thought from a younger age that Amora kept quietly in the back of her mind, before she had grown accustomed to Karnilla's colder ways.  
Amora despised herself for insulting Karnilla in her mind, Karnilla; who found Amora stricken in her room and calmed her without questioning, collected books from Loki so she didn’t have to and never, ever said a word about the state she found Amora in. For all Amora knew, Karnilla assumed it was due to her and Loki’s petty argument. She had uttered nothing to her except that the damage was not by Loki’s hand, she didn’t want to inadvertently frame him to Karnilla. Karnilla would probably blow him up if that were the case.

“Amora, my darling.” Her shoulder received a squeeze as Frigga continued “I cannot help you if I do not know what’s occurred.”

“I don’t - nothing has happened, my Queen.” Amora cultivated her most concealed expression, staring at the woman that cared the most about her.

Frigga's eyes glanced past Amora, hovering over the makeshift bed at the window. She needn't ask anything else.

* * *

Some referred to Amora and Loki’s bond as fate; predestiny, or something like that. Now they were strained.

Frigga had visited her again. Mostly in the evenings, away from prying eyes. She suggested Amora be with pals and spend her company in company.

“But your majesty, I don’t have any friends.” She didn’t intend for it to come out as sad as it did, but Frigga turned away slightly before speaking.

“You have one.”

There wasn’t a pang of guilt under Amora’s skin at the way she now spoke to him, the way her eyes glazed over him.

They sat together in the orangery, inside the pavilion. Spellbooks were scattered around them as they were a hundred times before. He remarked about pissing off Thor that morning, and she listened to the story and laughed at all the parts she was supposed to. Maybe she was lying to him, or lying to herself all over again that this was okay. Normal. A glance to the past.

Loki knew there was something wrong, something unknown. Everyone did. Nobody dared ask in fear of ending up like Amora - the whispers in the kitchens between servants exaggerated she’d met a beastly animal in the forest and it had drained life from her. They weren’t far from wrong. Apparently she’d coaxed it to a battle, and become immobile with fear once it launched at her, sucking the energy from her. This wasn’t as accurate.

They’d spent the last few months remeeting each other. After a while, she gently relaxed again in his presence and he was baffled to why she became unsteady in the first place. They’d argued and he wanted to apologise, then had been turned away from her door. The colour of her face and the pain in her eyes that he saw that day kept him awake at night. Heck, it kept him awake during the day.  
Loki had gone to his mother one night after being turned away from her door, again. Eyes glossy with tears as he explained why he just couldn’t understand her sudden change. Maybe he was hauling some emotional baggage from their argument, but months without a petty insult thrown at him seemed to upset him more than the silence, the unknowing. Frigga, in quite the substantial dilemma, explained in clipped tones that Amora had been hurt months before. Never progressing into detail or what state Amora had ended up in - for this she didn’t know herself. Summarising, she told him to just be there, because one day Amora would need him.

Anger overcame him once he bundled into his mother’s arms, a horrendous cry coming from him as Frigga herself only let a few tears slip. Loki told himself he should not be the one to cry, to get upset - he was arrogant to allow himself the easy and selfish display of upset when he couldn’t even be there for Amora. He wanted to hold, needed to tell her it was okay and that he was going to avenge her.

“Then what happened?”

Amora’s delicate voice found its way to him. Loki blinked back tears that she did not see. He often found himself flooding back to the moment he came to know why Amora transposed from her eye-rolling, alluring self to a catatonic, quiet woman.

Her spirit was lost in the new person he studied. Her features pale, her lips are darker pink than usual, her eyes wild and barely there. It was like she’d been stripped of everything that she became. The golden curls falling down her slender body were the reminder that she was still, in fact, the same being. Just slightly rewritten.

She was staring at him, he trailed off half way through the story he was reciting.

“Amora.”

Men around Amora lost their minds. He watched her toy with men, flirt with men at feasts and use their own wills against them. He knew that some men were devilish in the ways of charming women. Thor bedded a thousand maidens yet he was perfectly appropriate in the way he did, they all appeared happy and content when they left his room the next morning. Loki’s own mind had raced to Hel and back just because of her, she had such a hold over him and it had led them to great things together.

Amora’s eyes narrowed as she cocked her head, “Loki?” she asked after patiently waiting for his oncoming question.

“You know you can trust me, don’t you?” Was all that he said, all that he could say.

Amora didn’t flinch, only nodding, she lied “I know.”

He wanted to take her hand and kiss it, like a thousand times before. But now her expression resembled panic when his hands came too close to her.

* * *

Thor was in a complete state of distress when he arrived. Something had occurred that couldn’t be spoken about within the palace, apparently, and it must’ve been serious if Thor openly asked for an invitation to Amora’s chambers. She didn’t want to accept, she had burned her final bridge with him when he apprehended her months before.

Allowing him a visit wasn’t out of the goodness of her heart, it just meant she could listen to whatever drawl he had to say, she doubt it would’ve been an interrogation about the situation in Vanaheim. After all, she did help him, and Thor was the type of person to let something slide if he’d gotten the best of the situation.

“Amora.”

“Ah, I suspect you want to be launched into another dresser?” She referenced their idiotic trip to Vanaheim, as she assumed his state had something to do with it. He could’ve bedded half of Vanaheim in the time after, Amora wouldn’t put it past him.

There was a sinking feeling in her heart, the coldness that overcame her months before was back, residing within. There in the centre of the courtyard, where Amora had been before as both a spectator, commentator and participant, was that familiar stranger, lying amok next to the fountain.

Maybe it wouldn’t have been so unusual if it weren’t for the dagger set in his chest, stains of crimson blood sunken into his clothes.  
Amora grabbed Thor to steady herself, her hand shaking on his large arm. That coldness had flooded back when she saw his hands, sliced and worn. Her cries had entered her ears as she traced her eyes over his bloody form, legs spiralled ahead of him.

“ _I need to_ \- “ Amora’s legs buckled and she slowly sunk to the floor, breath quickening as she felt the coldness dig into her bones again.

“Amora,”

Thor was able to be gentle and soft, disregarding the hugeness of himself. He was warm against her, wrapping his arms around her but slightly too tight.

“Thor,” the tears were beginning to swell as her voice wobbled, why did she cry so much? She hid herself in Thor’s embrace as his soft voice whispered “It’s okay... _I’ve got you,_ Amora.”

Thor continued to hold her while she shook, even with their forever-distaste to one another. He tried to remain ahold of her as the guards swooped in, saying things Amora couldn’t process. Thor had argued with them as they hoisted Amora up, pressing forcefully on her arms.

“Amora of Karnilla, we have orders to bring you to the Allfather and awaiting councilmen.” One said as his face remained like a statue. All unmoving and empty.

Amora was beginning to feel the same way.

* * *

Karnilla’s fingers sunk into Amora’s shoulder to physically restrain her. The authority of the situation spooked Amora, when she had been sent to Odin for punishment there weren’t so many guards present, and even less members of the council.

“Hello Odin,” she almost-purred as she stared up at him, refusing to clock the rest of the room. Thor had begrudgingly allowed the guards to escort her - but followed behind. She was unsure why, it wasn’t a hero tactic like Sif would use - and he basically despised her. The time it had taken the guards to drag her from the courtyard to the throne room, she mentally prepared herself and her many layers, becoming a different character. Her favourite kind, especially real to those that didn't know her.

“You will refer to your king as your majesty.” Karnilla hissed, nails digging into her shoulders and probably drawing blood.

“Fine, then your majesty will refer to me as Enchantress.” She has covered herself in all disguises, no raw emotion or vulnerability peaking through. Odin remained as all-blank as he could be, his expression staling and remaining.

"Amora of Nornheim and Asgard, of Karnilla.” Odin’s eye gazed at her, waiting for confirmation. Actually, every eye in the room looked to her as if they were watching a theatrical play. Karnilla confirmed, releasing her grip as she stepped back.

“You have been charged with homicide of the highest form.” Odin began “You are dismissed from Karnilla’s authority, you will be cast out of Asgard. From this day, your exile begins on Midgard.”

Amora dismissed Odin's words as he spoke of banishment for her mishap with that stranger. She had all the pride in her to admit it, but that meant being banished, which then meant leaving and that would be forever. She watched Odin's mouth move around, gargling silent nonsense to her. She probably should be listening though, hear the terms of her exile.

Amora could’ve sworn he smiled “Karnilla and Frigga, Queen of Asgard, have vouched for your faith and changeable nature, which is the only reason you haven’t been sentenced to death.”  
She suspected a familiar rushing feeling would adapt to her body, or a tear would be shed. A shifting restlessness or a flooding doubt in her mind surfacing, but nothing happened. She was even sure she wasn’t pretending, wasn’t dramatising the event. She smacked her lips together for an all-mighty grin, slowly focusing on each member in the room. She finally looked at Loki, whose head was lowered next to Thor who, for his part, looked a little upset.

“I hope it doesn’t falter.” Amora purred, rolling her shoulders as she felt Karnilla step back towards her.

“Beg your pardon?” Odin hissed. Frigga stood next to him, hands shifting at her front. Amora made a satisfied noise before turning round, her eyes wandering over everyone again just to make them all the more uncomfortable. Echoes of displeasure filled the room from the councilmen who had been rattled at her comment.

Amora continued to the doors. Legally, she has to listen to her charge and banishment instructions, she didn’t have to hang around to argue. Karnilla held a hand out to stop her but she only brushed past it, knowing that no one could make her stay.

“You will remain in Midgard forever, shortening your lifespan. The Bifrost will never open to you.” Odin stated, she felt the wrath pouring from him without even looking at him. He wanted to rile her.  
She couldn't do forever. The words struck her in the heart, like a scouring dagger or a pitchfork. Maybe driven in by Odin - or Sif, she didn't like Sif. That was one of the upsides she managed to think of while Odin was talking, she wouldn't have to see Sif if she was banished.

The anger began to ricochet off of her in physical forms of emerald and gold, swirling and attacking parts of the ceiling and walls. The debris little but the impact to the ground silenced everyone, even Odin. The wrapping of her skirts around her as she turn mimicked a wild bird, a lost animal.

“Kiss your sons goodbye for me.” With her lips pierced, and her form strong, she only gave Odin an enraged, demented smile.

* * *

Guards escorted Amora without Karnilla to her room to collect anything she could carry, there would be no horse-drawn carriage to sail through the Bifrost with her.

She only moped around her suddenly sentimental room, bits and pieces galore reminding her of different, sacred memories. Even bad ones. It was only setting in that she wouldn’t return, there was little fight in her even if she wanted to counter Odin. It was hopeless and just an awaiting loss. Zoning out, she deafened as she picked up lazily discarded items that she knew had to be tidied away, but they never were going to be now.

She almost didn’t hear him stumble in, throwing himself past the guards that tried their very best to subdue him.

“ _Amora,_ ”

The growl in his voice was apparent, but then so were the tears streaming down his cheeks as she turned. There was little time for her to say anything as he forced her into his arms, locking his arms around her.

She grunted as she face-planted into his chest, struggling to wrap her arms around him as he clamped on her sides, refusing to release. This embrace was almost new to her, she hadn’t been in his arms for such a long time, she almost forgot how it felt to be held by him.

They had evaded their honest desires for the duration of their acquaintanceship. Dipping in and out of love and hate, hot and cold, friend and foe...Amora’s perseverance to avoid speaking of their feelings, acting physically and sometimes not emotionally. An emotional wedge driven between them with Thor, Odin, Sif, Sigyn - the list went on - all having a hand in it. She had become sick of herself, sick of dampening her feelings down into the pit of her soul.

She was going to thaw the parts that had grown cold, rupturing at the damage that had caused. There was nothing to be said. Nothing that could be said, months had passed since they’d spoken, kissed...even looked at one another. Amora was a chapter to tell at a tavern, one that Loki could recite over and over. But they had growing up to do, since forever. They were made to diverge, to mesh and melt within each other, but never to end that way. Then she realised, it had nothing to do with his royal status, nothing to do with her being involved with sorcery. Amora wasn’t a Sigyn or a Sif, and when she reached for his face just to touch him one final time. She knew she would be tainted in his eyes.

Loki would cry about her. He cried now, facing her as she ultimately almost reached his height with her boots. He’d cry tonight and tomorrow, but then there were going to be days he didn’t cry. When he would forget his forever-alliance with the untameable Enchantress, the blonde girl from the pavilion he’d rudely interrupted one day.

And she truly felt that there must be another world for their love to be held, as it remained in her as much as her internal and vital organs did. Even if she didn’t truly love him, they had never said it to each other. Their bond was insane. She was slipping away, always. Even with him all these years, she was slowly slipping out of his grasp in the way a knife was slowly dragged out of the body after penetrating, instead of being forced out quickly.

Loki would follow Amora out to the Bifrost, no matter her protests. Karnilla only said her goodbyes to Amora in her room, she struggled through her words but Amora knew that Odin was right, Karnilla had a hand in saving her.

The bridge had been walked by them many times, mostly just for a long stroll, a reason not to return to their own chambers. There was something cold in the air, the night didn’t lift as naturally as it usually did. She would recall moments watching the sun reach from the depths and shine glory all over golden Asgard. It would be a background to their mornings spent on the balcony, or typically unfavourable time spent sparring which could only happen at early hours.

The Asgardian princes took her secondary childhood. If only Karnilla chose another, then she wouldn't have to deal with, well, what she was dealing with now. Perhaps Lorelei was too inexperienced for this.

On nights conversation wandered into families which neither felt so greatly to divulge. They knew they were able to converse with the other, the added alcohol enabled their mouths to roll words together they never would sober.

Amora allowed herself to sink into him during those nights, lay her head against his shoulder and just unwind the knots in her frame. The ache in her mind had become resounding, it must’ve been the wine...

_“You are my only friend.” A slim tear skirted down her cheek, she forced the others to cease out of anger for showing such weaknesses. She hadn’t cried since arriving at the palace, and the only thought springing to mind was if Karnilla saw physical displays of emotion as weak too._

_“Then you are all mine.” He said after bringing a hand to her face to swipe at the tear she thought he didn’t see. She supposed they never truly loved each other but were a perfect bond._

Even when she looked at him like she didn’t know him, she could see inside his head that he cursed himself for breaking contact for so long. If he knew Amora was going to be banished by the end of the century then he would’ve certainly come to her sooner.

“ _My Enchantress_ ,” his fingers tossed her hair away from her face, snaking down to touch and press against her features.

They were lonely souls destined for each other, she knew it. There was a time stamp on their bond, on their united hearts. Amora leaned back from him, hands dropping from his shoulders.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, the wobble of his voice reaching her quickly, shattering the remains of her heart. Amora slowly shook her head, chest rising again in an mismatched pattern, fingers trembling against her thigh, she didn't think it would end like this.

Amora hurt people. Seemingly. Naturally. She drew him in all too quickly and he cleverly cast her out when it got too deep, when they were all too natural in the other’s space. Odin could see it from the start. The rain pelted down on the two of them, Amora craned her neck to catch sight of the watchtower, Heimdall standing squarely inside.

“Goodbye, Loki.” He was shaking against her as they embraced for the last time, grasping her clothing so tightly that she could barely escape his clutch.

“Amora, _I love_ \- “ her hand pressed over his mouth, fingers teetering over his lips as she whispered “ _Don’t._ ” She pulled her hand away “Save that. Save that for someone _worthy._ ”

A glance so fleetingly she didn’t catch his final expression, centuries analysing him and she wanted to remember every contortion of his face, not his sobbing and his shaking. All she felt gnawing at her core were the harsh cries of his curses as she walked away, her heart somehow empty and heavy at the same time.

When he reached out she was already gone. _Like magic_. As quick as magic.

Heimdall greeted her politely “Lady Amora.”

“It’s Enchantress.” She softened her gaze on him, having very little trouble with him ever. Heimdall returned a soft glance as he nodded “Very well, _Enchantress_.”

Maybe she wasn’t that bad, but Asgard wasn’t going to let her hang around to prove it. And maybe she truly loved the second prince, or maybe she told herself that, because who could return love to an unruly, untameable Enchantress...

* * *

_They lied. The coldness grows after a while._

Time travels briefly. Amora’s life on Asgard spanned centuries, but her short time on Midgard seemed to outnumber every minute, hour and day spent on the Golden Realm. Years weren’t counted, but time passed in other ways. Where she had been grief-stricken for periods at a time, circling back to denial and then anger, all of that had grown lost and died. She had simply grown used to the days, and the nights came quicker if she didn’t resent them.

Midgard was dismal. Grey compared to the golden horizons of Asgard, even to the lilac skies of Vanaheim. Adjusted wasn’t the word, but Amora had made her loathsome-life work. As mortality sunk within her, she weakened each day, succumbing to the mortal planet. There was no light, no colour in her life. The things she wore itched and scratched, they never fitted as well as an Asgardian gown.

The mortals were so easily afraid; a jump, a knock, a sound. The darkness that crept upon them in the night, the illuminating shrewd faces passing under streetlights. Supposing an untimely death would’ve been a prize, but Odin wouldn’t reward her that well. Escaping Midgard would be no punishment at all. While she would weaken, and her aesir would fade, she knew her body and soul would progress further than the average mortals. Odin was probably in the watchtower, enjoying the entertainment alongside Heimdall, looking down with a crook on his lip.

The sky above her was black, it could’ve been mistaken for a Midgardian evening. Yet it was too black, no stars aligning the composition. There was a sudden coldness creeping upon her, the hairs stood up on her arms and her eyes fixated to the surroundings. Panicking, she threw her head in every direction, turning and spinning around to understand her surroundings. She was no longer on Midgard, she could feel the gritty air that seemed to slowly suffocate her.

The largest man she had ever seen stood far from her, he would’ve been obviously huge up close. A stranger, she didn’t recognise him, he was completely alien. Actually, the more her eyes preened, he seemed to be that, an alien. Purple skin sunk under blackened scars and ripples in his face, an eerie expression highlighted by the coldness, abruptness of his features. Amora realised her breathing quickened, then looked around her, it was like a non-existent area, just stone and grey. There was no colour to make sense of it.

Nightmares occurred on Asgard, usually when she slept alone. As a child, they would be timid and untouchable, but as she grew, the dreams would be more realistic. Sometimes she couldn’t decipher whether she had truly dreamt it, it had been placed in her mind or it happened. Maybe this was a cruel part of Odin’s punishment, an all-realistic dream that inched her fear. In another world, she would’ve panted in her sleep and awoken in familiar arms, only to be calmed and held. That was the only upside to a terrifying dream.

“My, my,” a low, foul voice interrupted her thoughts “you are enchanting...”

Amora focused on the surrounding figures she hadn’t witnessed previously; ugly, disillusioned aliens. The figures grew as they neared her, she stared down at her form; a slit in her long green skirt hiding a gash, the dampness of her blonde hair and as she brought her hand up to her mouth, the drops of blood dotted around.

It shocked her how weak her legs were, as she was hauled up by one of the foreign creatures, a grime, snake-like arm wrapping around her front, holding her up to show the ‘leader’ of the pack.

“This will do,” the largest of the alien-men turned away from her, as if he had someone else to speak to “don’t you agree?”

It became clear who he was conversing with as he snarled, back facing her. Amora could see past the purple form, refusing to believe. _Surely it couldn’t be…_

“ _No_ ,” Loki whispered, his eyes wide and hollow. The once full of wonder and intelligent eyes now empty with only a trace of pain. He looked defeated and sickly, pale lines dark and affixed with bruising and wounds.

“Your commitment will prove both versatile and... _appropriate_. Before resisting, again, I would like to remind you exactly why you shouldn’t…”  
Like the snapping of fingers, the leader quickly amassed the power to create some kind of insane, intense surge within Loki. His agonised scream rattled Amora’s bones, her body wanted to leap over and protect her but the arms holding her in place refrained her from doing so.

All she could hear were Loki’s pants, his racing breath after the whatever was sent inside his head was lifted. The grim, purple alien smiled, turning his attention back to Amora.

“We almost doubted the trickster’s weaknesses, there are almost none,” he leered at her, eyes crawling over her “until we searched his dark mind, and found _you_.”

The day Karnilla plucked her, she felt like a broach for sale. With the unorthodox, purple alien breathing over her as if she was being auctioned, she suddenly felt like the broach was a fine option.  
There were no more light-hearted, promising childhood moments. No youthful teenagers in love sequences that would make a narcissist sick. They had grown separately, and in a completely unknown situation. Amora kept blinking because she couldn’t believe it to be real, not when mere centuries ago her biggest threat was Sigyn. When the worst moment of her life was catalogued between Odin’s punishment, an unknown attacker and her parents leaving her.

“Thanos, my lord, we have the scepter.” The tallest of the alien comrades walked towards the leader called Thanos, a thin golden baton lying in his hands. He slightly bowed as he handed it to the giant.

The anger rose in her. Across from her was an invasive stranger, a power-hungry leader that she had grown tired of. She had dealt with too many of these men before. Focusing on Loki, who was on his knees after being overthrown by the invasive mind surge, he locked eyes with her and looked truly afraid. He must’ve mirrored her expression as she had never felt so terrified in all her life.

Thoughtlessly, and possibly foolishly, Amora darted up from the hooked arms to stand tall amongst the draining air. Without a calculation, or a test-run to truly see if her performance was adequate, she spun her fingers ahead of her for the first time since Asgard.

A green. A gold. A green. A gold. The powerful flashes darted one after the other, mirroring a dance only more violent. The magic sent from Amora's fingertips bounced towards Thanos and his surrounding comrades. She felt her insides battling her, it had been such a long time since she used magic - since she had the ability to. This otherworldly scene allowed her to summon her old ways, but after every spell of emerald sent from her she weakened, vision clouding.

Thanos, after being hit with a swirl of gold, only grinned down at her. She was sure Loki was talking to her because his mouth was moving, but she couldn’t make sense of what he was saying.

Instead of the aliens leaping to attack Amora, they swarmed around Thanos - initially she thought their own bodies were the shield, but they joined together to block incoming spells. Well, block as in be the unintended target - one just fell as her golden spell shot through his chest. Another seemed to be experienced, or the most experienced, with deflecting sorcery.

Loki watched her as she performed. It was a theatrical show, her golden hair billowed out behind her, haloing her pale face holding an extremely concentrated look. The restraints on him stopped him from joining, battling beside her. Inside, he cheered as three of Thanos' immediate army fell.

She truly looked magnificent. This is why they call you Enchantress, he thought. Flashes of Alfheim, the training yard, all came to mind. He had seen her fight, perform, but never properly battle. Never witnessed the true extent of her power. Amora’s long legs coated in emerald armour relaxed from their stance as she stepped across, performing a sort-of lyrical dance as she crossed and threw her hands to amplify her own power.

The stricken look on Thanos’ face was enjoyable, briefly. There was a united power in the air between Amora and him, he allowed it to seep further into his veins as he freed himself of his restraints in some wonder of a power move.  
His eyes glancing at her could cost him, he knew. The lesser guards around him quickly jumped, alert and precise. Loki dodged an oncoming dagger, aimed for his head, with a sharp turn as he flicked his own dagger to stab the attacker in the back. The thump of the figure hitting the floor confirmed he was safe to catch another look at the performance. Amora's split skirt was sweeping the floor as a golden disc circled her feet - it was like a wind machine was on her, as if she was staring directly into a Jotunheim storm.

Although instead of beads of snow captured in the tendrils of her hair, it was blood.  
_Blood._

Amora had been struck. Her left temple was decorated with a crimson, dancing down her face onto her snow-coloured neck.

A selection of broken bodies were lying amok on the ground, Amora was with them. Like the snapping of fingers, he was beside her in one sudden, hurried motion.

She was always cold. The most unpleasant type; not lukewarm rivers turning and swishing around each bend, the ones children can splash each other in. The type laced with salt, the unknown parts of the freezing water that has one aim; to choke, suffocate and completely drain the life from the unlucky victim.

 _Her._ She was all drunken kisses against the wall, darkened laughter and dancing aimlessly through the halls. She was the last thought before bed, and the first once awake, she was the paint in a picture and a complete and utter mistake. A reckless child gone wild, but her time was so worthwhile.

Then fuller, bigger eyes, longer pauses. A young adult with barely any moral, all rolling hips and wide stares and sunken gases that drove him insane. They never shared an I Love You between kisses, because they never truly did. She was everything to him, and he never told her.

In his arms, she was shivering for once. Not for the air or temperature, not even for the wound as it took control of her movements.

Amora’s body hiccupped as the wound bled out. The crimson blood seeped into her green corset and ran into his armour as he pulled her closer. All thoughts had left his mind, except her. He didn't know what he was doing, he didn't know what to do but hold her.

His shaking hand cupped her face, he pressed into her face with his long, quivering fingers. He wanted to be gentle, he was always gentle with her. The devilish person everyone else saw in him left his body when Amora came close to him - there became a sudden softness, a tenderness that coloured his movements when she was near.

_"You like her," Thor teased, pausing as he mentally recited this to himself. He had constantly teased and made jokes about the idea of Amora being an addition on Loki's arm or seated at the dinner table beside Frigga. They were only young, the Enchantress hadn’t been king introduced to them. This was considerable jest to Thor, as the entire introduction of his brother's well-suited companion didn't threaten him, no, but Loki wasn't exactly surrounded by people in the same way he was. Thor saw Amora; a strikingly beautiful, intelligent young girl and while she shared interests with Loki, he never thought of them as a, well, romantic pairing. Seeing his brother genuinely tensed at her name confirmed that there were definitely some underlying feelings, of a sort._

_"Does she like you?"_

_"Thor, stop," he hissed "we study together, that's all."_

_"Of course,"_

_And just as if she knew she was the subject of conversation, Amora appeared from around a corner, floating towards the two of them with a possessive grin. Thor could've sworn her ears were physically burning, however he couldn't check as her bouncy curls covered her ears, rolling down her shoulders._

_"Hello, boys."_

_Thor forced his eyes up from where they were trailing on her body. The purr of her voice made him uneasy but intrigued, and he wasn't sure why. She was simply intoxicating; not like a mead that would be downed in a gulp and a second ordered, she was a fine red-blooded wine that tested and teased your lips until it was slowly devoured._

_"What are you talking about," she smiled towards Loki and gave Thor a sweeping glance._

_Thor watched as his brother shifted from foot to foot, her presence quite literally excited him._  
_He watched as Loki returned a trademark grin and, in an attempt to disguise his red-stained cheeks, threw up a hand to run through his hair._

_"Well, actually, we were just - " Thor began, and Loki had never been as quick to cut someone off_

_"Nothing - shall we...there's a script I found that you may find of interest,"_

_As much as he loved Thor, he didn't want to share Amora. Not that Thor wanted her company; she wouldn't be there as a sparring partner, someone to swoon over him and caress his muscles or a possible evening lover if the night took that turn. She wasn't Sif. Amora would most definitely be bored of Thor if they shared an isolated fifteen minutes together._

_Amora nodded, walking closer to him to take his arm so they could continue to the library. He never pinned it to a moment, but this one was definitely up there as one of the defining moments of his realisation in his true feelings. As she looped her arm through his, as she usually did, it now seemed more in the way Thor has jested and less in the way it had originally been; just close friends sharing a walk._

_"Why are you, so jumpy?" She asked, the hotness of her breath close to his ear, as it usually was when she would lean her head to whisper something only he could hear, something that only belonged to him. This was definitely a moment that confirmed the development of their friendship from simply platonic to a different sort of desire._

_One that he didn't want to dismantle their bond, but he didn't want it to exactly go away either._

_"No reason," he replied as they left Thor, following the same route they always did to go to the library._

_Amora softly shrugged and gave it no more attention. She decided to recite her past hour with Karnilla, and when she spoke of something that annoyed her during the class, her hand would tense on his arm. He didn't think it was deliberate, or that she even noticed, but he did. It was a sudden touch that he was previously accustomed to, allowed it and expected it. Now, when she touched him, his heart leapt and he was actually worried whether she could hear it's pounding. The amplification of his heart on her every touch, every word - he liked it._

Loki struggled to position her on his lap, she lay in a motionless heap over him. Realising her positioning wasn't her main discomfort, his hands found her chest where the blackened wound opened, he sunk his hands on the wound in an attempt to heal it. Close it. Fix it. He cursed at himself for being sloppy, heck, if Amora was watching him attempting to heal someone like this, she would push him away and do it herself. Although, Loki had rarely been in a situation in which Amora wasn't a back-up, just in case his treacherous hands were unable to perform the movements of the healing process.  
Loki looked back at her face, and it broke him. Amora’s soft pink lips were patterned with red, a colour she rarely wore. Her eyes were fluttering matching her quickened breath and it reminded him of when she would fall asleep next to him. When she would promise to stay awake until he fell asleep, if he had a nightmare that woke the two of them. She would brush her delicate fingers through his hair and try to keep her eyes open, and every time he let her close her eyes and fall back to sleep first.

_No._

"Loki,"

 _You cannot close your eyes,_ he wanted to tell her. He wanted to shout at her, to plead, to beg her. But it was his name on her lips that startled him, as if he’d been stabbed right through the heart. Her ghostly hand found his and traced a single finger over the back of his hand, and he squeezed hers in return.

Before the moment passes and the darkening of his heart begins, she leans ever so closely, as much as she can manage " _I will find you in my next life,_ " she breathed, her sad eyes meeting his own watery ones, she pulled his hand away from the wound. His throat croaked. A fresh set of tears began rolling down his cheeks, as he desperately tried to pull himself together for her, not the onlookers.

Loki’s lips met the back of her hand, he kissed her like a prince. If that's all he was to her, so be it. He then kissed the top of her bloodied head, like a true lover. As that is how he imagined them to be, a picturesque image of the two of them cuddled behind a stacked shelf in the library. The books leaving no gap in any of the rows so that they were hidden, unseen by peering, intrusive eyes.

She was a wretched and violent dream, Loki was forever weak at the knees. Now she is lying over his thighs, the saddest look held in her eyes. Hands run tentatively over the dagger, which is placed into her heart, an original wound from the start with no remorse or panicked remarks.

Sigyn was always going to be better. Sigyn was a pink-toned princess that wasn’t drippy or simple; she had a mind, a life, she was going to use her intelligence well. Amora was the dark in the sky, the bump in the night and the smoke that could choke you.

She is motionless against his touch, once longing for his love. Underneath her guise she is kind, she simple and likes his green eyes, because they are comparable to hers and even if they hold the colour evil, the green that was deemed taboo. She once said they remind her of her own, and that is the biggest secret they own.

She was his _everything_. He had all of her, and she had all of him. He had seen all of her, even though she pretended he hadn’t - that he was a few chapters away from finishing the book. That the ending would destroy him. They were a love destined for the worst and the best. She was everything in his arms now, as she was when she first floated into the room as a young girl. The mysterious girl seated in the pavilion. Loki's head spun with memories but a hiccup from Amora drew him forcefully to reality. Her fingers tightened in his hand, as her body let one final breath out. Her eyes allowed a final look at him before they glazed over. He felt the weight of her head drop slightly on his arms as she became both weightless but the heaviest article he'd ever held.

" _Amora,_ " he spluttered as he struggled to regain control of his breathing. He wasn't entirely sure he was breathing as he watched his heart lose life in front of him. His eyes leaking with tears that resemble his deepest, darkest fear. Amora gasps against him quietly as if it is her last goodbye to him.

Her fingers loosened.

Loki let out a scream of anguish, it is animalistic and howling. Forever echoing her name, his voice pained. Her body is akimbo, lying over his, he hasn’t the heart to bring himself to push her away again. Another animal sound because he couldn’t search for words. A sound that alerted Thanos to continue the show, to instruct the guards to be right up beside him, hoisting him up. It wasn’t fair.

Then he was fighting against the guards, as if the power that left her body entered his. He didn’t want to leave her alone, not her beautiful body to succumb to nothing in a world of nothing. Becoming lost in a world she didn’t know. With his heart throbbing and tears cascading, he knew then he fully darkened. His soul would turn to dust as her body would. And forever be cold.


End file.
